The Road I've Never Traveled
by Troublesome Dragon
Summary: America has made a horrible discovery. He's lost his umph. After a talk with England, America gets an idea. He'll live like a human being and discover what he's missing. Unfortunately, the other countries are not willing to play along, no matter how much he might pretend otherwise.
1. Just Another Day

Just Another Day

Alfred stared at the ceiling, and strangely, he didn't feel like getting up. He'd been so occupied planning for tonight yesterday that it hadn't occurred to him to plan for the first half of the day. He shut off the radio, but quickly fell back onto the sheets. No umph, that was the problem. It was one of those birthdays where nothing he did would make it feel special. He'd lived for a very long time after all. So, eventually, it became hard and more importantly, expensive to constantly top previous birthdays. Still, he decided that if he couldn't have a firework extravaganza and a large spread, he would do something that he'd never done before. He would get England to spend the entire day with him.

America stretched, regaining motive to move his limbs. He considered changing, not that it mattered much. He could wear anything he wanted, and people wouldn't bat an eye while he was in the states. Somehow, they could just sense that it was a stupid idea to hassle him and rarely bothered him. He could go out in his Captain America Pjs and lay on the white house front lawn without the secret service even pulling out a gun. He could take out the Declaration of Independence for a quick read, if he wanted. Especially today, he could do anything he wanted today. It's when this strange power was at its peak, the time that Americans were most patriotic, and yet, for the first time in a while, it wasn't enough. It wasn't comforting. It wasn't exciting. It wasn't anything. It felt like just another day.

Alfred sighed, putting on a t-shirt and jeans. While he had it easy at home, more or less, the other nations didn't let him get away with anything, side effect of becoming a Super Power over night, probably. Except, that didn't really apply anymore. He was slipping, and he knew it. He hardly payed attention in meetings. Sure, he could garner enough enthusiasm so he just looked like an idiot, but it didn't matter. If he had to guess, it was probably over the same issues they always had: global warming, war, and the economy. They just ended up rehashing the past anyway.

Traveling downstairs, he contemplated what to say. You haven't been around for the majority of my birthday parties and only stay for a few minutes at most when you do. No, England was especially immune to guilt trips. He'd have to lay it on thick if he wanted that to work, and he didn't particularly feel like groveling today. Considering the day, it would be sort of blasphemous to do so. He headed straight into the kitchen and ate some leftover pizza, one of the few fast foods that still tasted good after being refrigerated.

He held up the phone, thinking it over. Maybe, he could just ask, and if that didn't work, he would drag the man here. America sighed, wondering if it was such a good idea. He'd managed to trick him into coming into his country at least, made some excuse about discussing important matters. He obviously knew the date the meeting would fall on when he'd agreed. So, maybe, he already knew? Dammit, he was just going to call.

"Hey, England, come over," he said and heard his sour reply on the other end.

"Yes, I know that I told you the meeting was this afternoon. I lied. I want to hang out with you today," he said, and he was met with the evil dial tone, yup, same old, Arthur. Great, now, he would have to drag him to his house to celebrate or call again. Alfred hesitated. Even if he did manage to drag Arthur out of the hotel room, he tended to get physically ill during this time. Alfred already had limited expectations about this birthday, someone barfing probably wasn't going to help.

Unfortunately, he couldn't ask Canada to come over. Matthew had told him in advance that he would be busy and gave him his present early. Thanks to his impromptu decision to spend the day with England, he hadn't bothered inviting any other countries over either, and it was too late to call them if he wanted to celebrate today. He put away his phone, looks like he would be spending the day alone. Which wasn't so bad, really, he'd done that half his life almost, if he didn't count Canada's infrequent visits that century.

Normally, he would have bounced back from this setback with double the enthusiasm, but he felt drained. Alfred sat on the couch and turned on the tv, an I Dream of Genie marathon was on, perfect. About three episodes in, the whale came in through the small canal he'd built for him. He waved at the whale who immediately splashed him with water.

"Thanks, I needed that," he said, getting up so he could dry off. When he returned, Tony was on the couch. Alfred smiled, glad to find him there. He felt rather listless and having company would keep him from sleeping all day. The last thing he wanted was to fall sleep and end the day with a whimper instead of a bang; that was a big no no.

"Hi, Tony," he said, and the alien stopped sipping his soda to give him his present. He opened it, frowning at the contents inside.

"For the last time Tony, messing up my farmers's crops and taking a picture does not count as a birthday present. It was only funny the first time," he said, putting his hands on his hips.

"Look closer," he said, pointing to the first photo. Alfred did, laughing despite himself.

" A crop circle designed to look like Captain America's shield eh? You did good Tony," he said, patting the alien's back. Tony nodded, chucking the soda behind him. The cup landed perfectly in the trash can.

"I can't stay," the alien said, and Alfred sank further into the couch, figures.

"Why?" he said, and the alien gave him a look, although normal people wouldn't be able to tell the difference between it and his regular blank stare.

"Right, top secret, my bad," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. Tony stood and pressed a small button on his watch to beam himself away. America thought about it, and banged his head on the couch. He could have asked Tony to bring the other countries here. Oh well, at least, he still had the whale. The whale sank deeper into the small pool, and started to wail.

"What, you can't stay either?" he said, and the whale sprayed him with its port hole.

"Okay fine, leave me all alone with my stories," he said, shaking his fist at the whale. Then, someone cleared their throat behind him. America paled, hoping England hadn't heard that.

"I really thought you wouldn't come," he said, turning around. England had his arms crossed and looked like he didn't want to be in the same room with him but that was normal.

"Yes, well, I finally can without feeling sick to my stomach," he said, not so subtly checking for other guests. America rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"I didn't invite anyone else," he said, and England scowled. Surprisingly, he didn't receive further backlash.

"No matter, what do you want to do now?"he asked, and America had a whole list of cheap yet fun activities to do.

"A lot," he said, and England sighed.

"It's one of those trips, then," he said, and America nodded.

" I'm glad you finally pulled yourself together long enough to spend the day with me," he said, and England nodded absently. He'd been quiet the whole car trip and didn't complain when he said he wanted to see Abraham Lincoln the Vampire Hunter. It was weird, but he'd accept a tolerant England, even if he wasn't used to it.

"You know if you'd been less stubborn, we probably could have done something like this a lot sooner," he said, knowing he probably shouldn't have said it. England grit his teeth and replied dryly.

"How cute, you still think we have a choice in what we do."

"We don't?" he asked uncertainly. For him, lack of freewill involved forcing someone to act contrary to their character or to be unable to think for oneself, and the usual signs were fairly obvious like spinning or dim eyes. He was fairly certain he had full control over himself, and as far as he knew, he was acting well within his character, but he was rather new to the country thing compared to England. Maybe, he realized something fairly obvious that America had missed?

"No, think about it, why do you crave burgers and other fast food?" he asked, walking into the main lobby with him since America had pre-ordered their tickets. He didn't like waiting in long lines on holidays.

"Because it tastes good?" he said, guiltily walking past the snack stand. He'd brought his own popcorn from home and a few sodas on the side.

"Because your people think it tastes good," he pointed out, and America felt like an idiot for not considering that. He had compulsively eaten burgers when their popularity rose. He didn't think liking burgers was so bad though, except when he was trying to diet. America had eventually given up on that and now relied solely on exercise to keep from blowing up like a balloon.

"Why do you get along with Japan? And not Russia so much if they were both your enemies at one point?" he asked, and America didn't like were this conversation was heading, especially on his birthday.

"Japan's pretty easy to get along with. Ivan is well . . . Ivan," he said. Really it was like saying why people spend a majority of their time in sunlight instead of moonlight, it just made sense.

"No, not at all, it's because your people feel residual guilt for what happened fifty years ago, and the young ones in particular appreciate Japan's culture and stories while there is a whole generation of people who still remember the USSR and all it entailed," he said, and America hated to admit he had a point. Distrust did not go away over night and neither did guilt.

" I never really thought of it that way. Usually, I just- " he said but England was quick to cut him off.

"Why did you get a cold a while ago?" he asked, and America made a face, causing people in the hallway to give him weird looks.

"Because life sucks,"he said, going into the theater, just in time for the good commercials.

"Because you had a recession, although it took you a bloody long time to finally get one," he said, sounding somewhat annoyed. America didn't say anything, knowing from experience that he might as well be made of iron. The only fluctuating variable when he got hurt was how long he would take to recover, and it did heavily depend on how his country was fairing at the time of injury.

"Get the idea?" he asked when America didn't answer.

"Yeah, I guess so," he said, finally realizing why he was lacking umph lately. America wasn't human, and with nothing left to gain, he was staring at the hissing pit of immortality. America smiled. Maybe, it was time to let Alfred take over.


	2. I Quit

I Quit

"Now, people, yesterday, I spent the majority of the day watching Abraham Lincoln the Vampire Slayer, going on carnival rides and eating questionable food. So please, let's try and stay on task this time if you don't mind," England said, somewhat surprised that America had kept the celebration low key this year. Not that the day hadn't been enjoyable in its own way but he'd noticed Alfred didn't seem all there after the movie.

"It's Abraham Lincoln the Vampire Hunter," Canada said, correcting him. One of England's eyebrow's twitched. He didn't bloody care for the movie really, but it added insult to injury that he'd mixed it up with another of America's vampire related films or series or cartoon? Whatever, Alfred probably made him watch all of it at some point anyway.

"Okay, so I may have mixed it up with Buffy the Vampire Slayer. So one's a boy and the other's a girl, it's the same thing," he said, wondering when America would move on to a new obsession. England was starting to miss his pirate obsession, despite America's tendency to hide and startle him in pirate costume.

"No, he is out for revenge and hunts vampires with silver. Buffy is the chosen one who does it for the greater good," Canada said, seriously pushing the issue. England sighed, he didn't think mentioning the movie would distract them all so soon.

"And how would you know that Canada?" he asked. Canada looked down and mumbled something. England narrowed his eyes, already knowing the answer.

"Say it Canada," he said, and Canada looked up, smiling sheepishly.

"Alfred made me see it," he said, and England cursed under his breath. The damn git had insisted he hadn't seen it yet. Then, he thought about the way he phrased it._ I haven't seen it with you yet. _Blast it all.

"Hey, me too, mon ami, looks like Angleterre isn't so special," France said with a smile, and England gave up, sitting down with a huff. Apparently, he'd been wrong to assume America had suddenly taken a fancy to hanging out again. America would take anyone he could get, the damn wanker.

" Where is Alfred anyway?" he asked since they had turned in early at Alfred's suggestion, and they were having the meeting in America so it wasn't like it was a terrible inconvenience for him to come.

"He told me to give you this list of things he would normally say during a meeting because he couldn't come," Canada said, handing him a stack of papers.

"Let's get this over with," England muttered.

"Under global warming, we have, make a giant fan to cool the earth," he said, gritting his teeth. No matter how many times it was explained to him. He just didn't seem to get that giant robotic anything wasn't a realistic solution.

"I agree with America," Japan said, and it started.

"No you don't," he said, dismissing the matter with a wave. Germany backed him up, by glaring at anyone who might want to discuss the ridiculous notion. Italy and Greece put their hands down.

" Let's see. Under Economic issues we have, sell Greece's cats to help make up for deficit," he said, causing Greece to hold the two kittens he brought closer to his chest. England rolled his eyes. Who would want them?

"Relax, Greece, no one is taking your cats," he said, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and index finger. Maybe, it was better that he didn't come today.

"Below that, under miscellaneous, he suggests giving Greece's cats to Italy so he can control pigeon population in Venice," he said, and Greece walked out of the room.

"Greece, no one is taking these suggestions seriously, come back," he said, only to hear the door slam shut. Italy, on the other hand, revealed a pigeon he had been hiding under the table. That's right, a bloody pigeon.

"I like them, but they poop on things. Oh, I'm so torn. Bad pigeon, looking at me with those evil beady eyes. Man, you're cute, I'm going to call you Ludwig," he rambled on, poking the pigeon who stayed in his cupped hands and flapped his wings every time he was poked. Germany turned bright red.

"Italy, that is not appropriate,"he said, restraining his vocal chords in an attempt not to yell. Italy tilted his head, holding the pigeon up to Germany.

"Rovino?" he asked, and England decided that he'd had enough of this topic.

"Forget naming it, why on earth would you bring a pigeon to a meeting?" he asked, getting it through the building's security alone wouldn't be worth the trouble. Then again, they should probably up their security. Greece had managed to come in with his kittens.

"I don't need a reason," Italy said with his usual goofy smile. England understood a little better why German has so high strung and why America choose to be oblivious to most things, keeping the meeting on track was hard.

"Whatever, none of these seem very useful, oh wait, those weren't his real suggestions. He was only joking," he said, scowling. Figures, America would trick him like this.

"I guess I should have read all of it, before telling everyone," he said, flipping through the notes, some of what was written looked more promising.

"You and CNN, during whole American Health Care bill hearing," Russia said, sporting his usually creepily cheerful smile. Silence.

"No one laugh?"Russia asked, letting his head hit the back of his chair. He looked at the empty seat wearily.

"It's not the same if America isn't here to cry on inside like lost boy," he said, crossing his arms. This mention of America increased gossip in the room two fold, and England cleared his throat.

"Anyway, I suppose, I'll pass these notes around, and we can get started. Alfred hasn't honestly been participating much lately so it shouldn't slow us down," he said, although he frowned when he glanced at the empty seat. It's like he wasn't even trying anymore, and America always tried if nothing else . . .

"Um, Russia hates to interrupt again, but did anyone notice detailed note Alfred left renouncing his role as country representative and his attempt to start human life?"he said, raising his hand and holding up the last page in the other. Sure enough, Alfred F. Jones was written on the bottom, John Hancock style. England closed his eyes and felt the table snap underneath him from his staunch grip. The other countries gaped at him, including Greece who he could see in his peripheral vision. Arthur decided to handle the sudden tension like Italy would. He smiled putting his hands on his hips.

"All in favor of visiting Alfred and stopping this ridiculous stunt after the meeting say aye," he said, raising one hand.

"Aye," they said in unison. Sadly, this was the one unanimous vote they ever had.

"Very well, let's start with the usual business. Any new ideas on how to stop global warming, provided we should do anything at all?" he asked, not the least bit surprised when no one spoke. There was little they could do to regulate the situation when many simply did not want to risk stifling the economy further.

"Fine, we'll skip ahead. Let's talk about the growing conflict in the middle east," he said, and many, many hands shot up. He was sure that damage control was possible but differing opinions on what should be done and the various alliance involved were complicating things. Why were they only ever good at arguing?

"That again? I don't see the point. No one listens to me or China. Besides, we can't if America isn't here," Russia said, and both nodded, great, blocked by Russia and China again.

" All the more reason to drag him back kicking and screaming if we have to. I suppose we'll talk about ways to fund-raise money for Greece so he can sleep inside for a change," he said, since they tended to accomplish more when dealing with each other personal problems, rather than their land's respective issues.

Spacy as usual, Heracles stared at the ceiling, mouth open as if to catch the flying specs of lint inside. One kitten on his head and the other hanging from his chest, he was definitely the cat whisperer. Arthur wondered if he taught them to do that at an early age as he had seen older cats hanging from him before.

"I like it outside, and my government needs the extra money. You don't have to do this. I volunteered to forfeit the money they give me to live comfortably," he said holding up a kitten, who pawed at him. He frowned, petting the kitten's head with his thumb.

" I mostly end up sleeping outside anyway and use the money to feed the cats . . . poor kitties, " he said as the other one jumped onto his lap.

"I say we do a bake sale!" Italy said, clapping his hands.

"Well, if were successful, that will cover the cost of feeding Greece's cats at least, any other ideas?" he said, glad they were finally discussing something. If nothing else, he would make sure Greece's cats had plenty of food.

America never doubted he was free to do what he wanted, no not at all, not even during the Roswell incident . . . yup, got a Tony out of it. That didn't mean he wasn't nervous about meeting with the president. Alfred wasn't sure what he'd do, if, for example, he said no. There wasn't really a precedent for this. Sure, he took vacations, but he'd always wanted to be America before. Alfred wasn't sure how they'd take his retirement.

"Now, Alfred, we've had our ups and downs, and our time working together may end up being cut short so I need to know if you're serious about this," the president said, looking rather stressed, and America knew that was mostly his fault. He had re-election to worry about, and he was springing this on him out of the blue.

"Yes, I think this is something I need to do," he said, because the more he thought about it, the more excited he was. America was finally going to have a new adventure after years of meetings, paperwork, and people yelling at him that he was doing it wrong, stupid internet meme.

"I can't stop you, but if you're going to do this, I want you to do this right," the president said, turning to the window, the sun had started to set, and Alfred thought it tied in nicely to their current situation.

"What do you mean?" he asked, not expecting there to be conditions. At most, he expected the idea to be shot down, or if they happened not to care at all, he expected them to at least show him to the door and say goodbye.

"If you want to be human, you can't rely on the knowledge of your people. You're going to have to earn a college diploma," Obama said, turning around and collecting some papers from a drawer. America groaned. It's not that he wanted to be a bad example, but technically he was qualified to do any job in the world, provided that it didn't involve reading maps.

"Can't I just forge some papers and become a doctor?" he said, making his eyes wide and hopeful. Doctor was one of his top three choices, next to teacher and zoologist.

"No, although, I'm sure you'd be a fine doctor, Alfred. That is what you want to be called correct?" he asked, obviously still uncomfortable addressing him as such.

"It's my name, yes," he said, grinning for silly reasons. The only ones who ever did call him that were other countries, and it was strange to hear a normal person say it.

"Part of it is wanting to know what you're missing, correct?" Obama said, and America bit his lip. Alfred knew where he was going with this. He shouldn't of known better than to argue with a lawyer.

"Yeah," he said, dampening his enthusiasm some. There were so many interesting things to do, and he wanted to stick him in a lecture hall of a building he probably paid for.

"So, it has to be about the journey, or you might as well march back into your house and forget you ever considered this," he said, and America nodded, knowing he was right. What was an adventure if one reached the destination too soon? Who cared for a hero that defeats his foe right away without making mistakes? Why bother getting out of bed if you already accomplished everything you wanted to do? Well, you get the idea.

"I understand," he said, and Obama put a hand on his shoulder.

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but you technically don't exist. That is going to be a problem," he said, pushing the papers forward. America had forgotten about them. He took a look, transcripts?

"I know," he said, noting his impressive recommendation letters from the president and secretary of state, an essay that was suspiciously in his own writing, despite having no recollection of the event, as well as an id that was clearly Canada dressed like him although he looked terribly confused as to why he was being photographed.

"So, we have pulled some strings to get you into Harvard with some fabricated grades and extracurricular activities," he said, and America smiled at his various extracurricular activities, especially the "try me" under languages.

"What happened to earning what I get?" he said, adjusting his glasses. Obama smiled, returning to his seat.

"Consider it a thank you gift for being a good-" he said, and America knew what he counted as in his country's democratic setting.

"Cheerleader?" he asked, and Obama laughed.

"Friend," he said, shaking his hand. America felt a warm and fuzzy feeling. Studying in university a few years wouldn't be so bad, he had all the time in the world.

" Also, we've pooled a portion of the unclaimed scholarship money we have access to so you can focus on your studies, but you are free to do what you want and that includes rejecting what we're offering you," he said. America thought about it, applying the old fashion way would just take money away from his fresh out of high school kids and devoted college students.

"I'll take the deal. I don't want to accidentally take money away from my kids, even if they won't be after this" he said, feeling a tinge of guilt for disowning them, kind of.

"By that you mean?"he said, waiting for an answer. Alfred furrowed his brows. People only looked at him that way when they thought he had- no.

"My people, pshht, fifty kids would suck," he said, already thinking what a nightmare New York alone would be.

"Of course, I thought you were a little young for that. I wish you the best of luck," he said, recovering quickly from the misunderstanding. Obama was about to offer him another handshake, but he embraced the man instead. This might be the last president he had close contact with.

"Thank you and good luck to you too, I know fund raising can be really stressful," he said, and Obama sighed, patting Alfred on the back.

"Don't worry about me. You're a freeman now. How does it feel?" he said, walking him out of his office. America tried to pin point the variety of things flying through his head: relief, anxiety, a sudden zen. Most of all, he started feeling a little light headed, refusing to be a country, probably wouldn't lead to harmful side effects, right?

"Weird," he decided, when it seemed that this sort of freedom didn't agree with him. He would make it work, somehow. Nothing could stop him if he set his mind to it. He tripped, and Obama managed to steady him. He sighed in relief. No, not even gravity would stop him.

"I'm sure you'll adapt. You always do," the president said as one of his more understanding presidents. America was sure Nixon wouldn't have put up with this nonsense. He had a very set way of doing things.

"Of course, I'm the hero!" he said, pumping his fist in the air.

"About that, we're not covering your medical expenses anymore," The president said, handing him some more paperwork. America looked at papers summing up the total costs of his hospital trips from his various heroic deeds, apparently even his more amusing injuries cost a wallop.

"Erm, then, I'm a good example!"he said, pumping his fist again.

"That's the spirit," the president said, looking around to make sure no one was around before giving Alfred a thumbs up. America couldn't help himself and hugged him again. Yes, he was ready to the live a long and normal life.


	3. No You Don't

No, You Don't

England, naturally, led the excursion to America's house, only to find the place empty, save this note. _America has retired to a life of obscurity, if you are a country other than Canada, go away, that includes you, Mexico. Happy belated Fourth of July!_

"Man, what did you say to him?" Russia asked, holding up the note for further clues. England rubbed his neck and looked down.

"Perhaps, we should try asking Canada," he said, successfully dodging the question for now. England hadn't particularly anticipated America reacting so negatively to his comment, let alone trying to defy it in the most blatant way possible. Stupid American, why couldn't he just accept it? No matter, all they had to do was ask Canada where he was and talk him out of it.

"You told America, the personification of the land of the free, that he had no freewill?" Canada asked, nearly clasping his neck to choke him but never quite managing to close in and do so. The rest has similarity shocked expressions.

" Damn and we always thought it would be Russia or China that finally made Alfred snap," France cut in. He was promptly ignored by the fuming Canada who was taking the news hard for the happiest place in North America. For now, Matthew restrained himself and put his hands at his sides. The only evidence left of his displeasure were his flushed cheeks and rapid breathing. Still, England took the time to back away from him and hide behind Russia who promptly pushed him forward for the lashing he semi- deserved.

"You idiot, no wonder the FBI kidnaped me, took my picture, and made me write an essay," Canada said, shaking his fist. China raised his hand.

"What China?" he said in a huff.

"And, you didn't suspect something sooner why?" Yao asked, and Matthew sighed, deflating somewhat.

" I thought it was one of America's crazy stunts, but if Alfred really did retire, then, evidence points to the government being okay with it," Canada said, mysteriously producing a donut box. Italy and Greece helped themselves.

"Will you please tell us where he is? We can't really discuss things without him present," Ludwig asked while Canada was in mid-bite. He continued munching on the donut and sipping his coffee, taking his sweet time responding. After putting his drink down, he sighed, not making eye contact with any of them. The signs were less than encouraging.

"No, you don't, honestly guys, in the last year, how much have we actually accomplished ourselves?" he asked, and everyone looked at each other.

" We fundraise a lot and discuss things," England offered. Canada cleaned his glasses. A nervous habit, England had noticed somewhere along the way, although he could not pin point when exactly he picked it up.

"Yes, we can help each other, talk about things, and play nice, but face it, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't' make much of a difference," Canada said, and England couldn't really claim he was wrong, usually all the meetings did was eat up time.

"You do have a point, but that doesn't mean he's allowed to stop being a country," Arthur said, wondering if Canada really understood or not. You can't stop being who you _are_, aggravating meeting or no.

"I'll agree with you and tell you where he is if you can name exactly what a personified nation is supposed to do," Canada said, a lot less riled up with coffee and donuts in his system. Arthur blanched, unable to come up with an appropriate response. What where they suppose to do? Sometimes those that knew of their existence were wise enough to ask for their advice or aid in matters of policy or warfare. Otherwise, they performed odd jobs. England tended to get stuck baby sitting the royal family's kids over the years, not that anyone asked him to anymore. He rather missed it actually.

"I have kept quiet, but I believe that is not a fair question to ask. We are the spirit. We do what we want," Japan said, looking up from his phone, no doubt informing the rest of the countries of what was going on through his blog.

"See, Japan agrees with me," England said, relieved to have some back up.

"Actually, no, I don't. If America thinks he needs to do this, then, he must. We should leave him be and return home," Japan said, and China shook his head.

" I'm old enough to know that you can't just quit. All he'll do his increase the feelings of uncertainty and abandonment in his citizens," China said, and Russia grabbed him by the shoulder, causing Yao to say a quiet hiya, before accepting the sudden invasion of personal space.

"China has point, if we don't take responsibility, bad things happen, right France?" he asked the Frenchmen who became extremely pale at the mention of his less than subtle indiscretions during the French Revolution.

"Good things came out of it," he muttered, and Italy chose to speak up, now that he wasn't sampling a donut.

"But there were two reigns of Terror- two," Italy said, holding up two fingers and smiling good-naturedly. England face palmed, wondering if Feliciano really meant to upset Francis or if he was simply that dense. Either way, Francis wasn't in the mood to talk after that, blending into the shadows.

Germany stepped forward when it became apparent that England wasn't doing so great convincing Canada to help them. Arthur stepped aside, letting Ludwig pass. What could he do if Matthew truly believed it was in his Alfred's best interest to keep his location secret? The man cleared his throat. His face expressionless. He circled the couch, making Matthew shift uncomfortably. Ludwig placed his hands on the sofa and leaned forward, coming within inches of Canada's face.

"Listen here. He may come up with stupid impractical ideas. He might pick fights, now and then, but at least, he gave a damn. I cannot run all these insipid meetings by myself, so please, just tell me where he is," Germany said, digging his fingers into Canada's leather sofa. Canada gulped, and England felt sorry for putting him in this position and decided to step in.

" Perhaps, I was a little rash. While I do think we need to find Alfred and talk him out of this, there is no need to intimidate Matthew," England said, and Ludwig released his grip on the sofa's armrest and turned to him, pointing an accusing finger, oh dear.

"As for you, I don't care what you did to break him. You will fix him," Germany shouted, and England winced. He hadn't broken America. He had seen a broken personification before, just before he cut ties with Rome actually. The man hadn't been a pleasant sight. Not that he'd seen America lately but . . . a few words couldn't crush a country. He was sure of that.

"I say we use this sheet of paper Canada left on the table with America's new address," Greece said, holding up said paper. Matthew attempted to snatch it, but Heracles easily passed it to Germany who was considerably taller. There was no getting the paper back after that. He glanced at it.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Canada," Ludwig said, patting his shoulder. Canada let his face fall onto the awaiting couch cushions. Italy oddly enough looked a little down when he noticed Canada's dismay.

"Don't feel bad. We're just going to talk to him. Oh, England did mention dragging him back kicking and screaming if we have to," Italy said, shifting his expression to one of intense thought before reverting back to his happy go lucky attitude. The brief seriousness must have been a fluke. Matthew lifted his head from the living room pillow, shooting England a look. Arthur pretended to misunderstand the situation, smiling brightly as he had seen Italy do many times before.

"Don't worry. We'll have him singing his national anthem and yelling out he's the hero in no time," England said, helping himself to a donut. He hesitated briefly before taking a bite. So what if he'd gained a little weight and America had started calling him the fat ass of Europe? Turned out he wasn't even in his right mind anyway, regardless of Arthur's involvement in his breakdown.

"You're making a huge mistake. Haven't any of you learned it's a stupid idea to provoke America? Japan? Germany? England-come on-twice, and you're still trying to tell him what to do? It only motivates him to do the exact opposite of what you want," Canada said, but most of the countries had already started heading out the door. England, originally right behind Germany, stopped, rolling his eyes. He wasn't being unreasonable in the slightest. The boy needed to realize there were things he couldn't do. Japan also paused briefly, looking up from his phone.

"I will simply watch and record the results in my blog," Japan said, before being urged forward by China.

"Thank heavens. Greece is good for something. Alfred owes me for the pizza we had last week," Yao said, and England watched them go without commenting. Technically, it had been England's turn to bring the food, and America had offered to buy pizza instead, after the fire in the kitchen had burned the food beyond edibility. Alfred, at least, had long ago stopped worrying over debt, or at least, he'd stopped being shy about using credit to his advantage. Greece shrugged, following the two nations out. His time as the provoker was long over. Italy, the last to leave before him, smiled his big old smile.

"I'm just going to talk to him. It's not good to give up on people," Italy said, letting his smile falter briefly. England could guess why.

"Bye Canada, it's really is for the best" he said, knowing it would be a while if ever before the boy took his word for it. He closed the door behind him, hoping Matthew wouldn't take it too personally.

Matthew let his head hit the cushion again. America was so going to yell at him for this.

"Who are you?" Kumajiro said, on the way to his food bowl. Canada raised his head again, glaring at the bear. If Kumaelmo thought he was getting fed after leaving him to fight off a group of countries, he was in for a big surprise.

"The idiot who left Alfred's new address on the coffee table, in front of the damn donut box," Matthew said, slowly pulling himself up into a sitting position. Kumahontas was nudging the bowl forward with his nose, aiming to leave it right next to the sofa- persistent bear.

"It's okay. It's not like he holds grudges," the bear said, in his overly upbeat tone. The bear loved saying sarcastic quips. It was times like these that he wished he was a regular bear.

"You know he does," Canada said, cleaning his glasses again. They weren't ever going to be clean. After the war, they never were.

" I was hoping you'd mistake my sarcasm for sincerity," the bear said, nudging the bowl forward. It touched the tips of Canada's fingers. He thought about it. They'd kept the paper well beyond his reach and played keep away with the damn address, and the bear hadn't been there to chomp on their legs like a good guard bear. No, he wasn't getting fed.

"You're a bear. You can get your own damn fish,"he said, reaching for the donut box-empty. Canada's life felt a little less worthwhile. At least, it wasn't March. He went bat crazy in March.

"But I'm a spirit bear,"The bear said, pawing at his shoulder. Matthew turned around, so he was less likely to force him off the sofa.

"Then, explain why I'm spending precious money feeding you," he mumbled into the pillow. He really wasn't in the mood to converse with Kuma. He'd been the only country that America trusted with his address. And what did he do? Give it to a bunch of nay sayers whose idea of being responsible was going to meetings and arguing. He may have still been a little bitter about Russia sitting on him.

"To quell my vindictive tendencies?" The bear said, licking his paw and rubbing it against his forehead. Matthew registered the comment. Did the bear finally admit that he'd left him to his fate on purpose, multiple times?

"What?" he said, immediately turning around and reaching for his hockey stick, his immediate non-lethal weapon of choice. The bear backed away, eventually sitting on his rump when he was just out of reach. Canada begrudgingly put the hockey stick down. He thought about it. England attacked with an umbrella when he only intended to maim, and he did the same thing with a hockey stick. He let his head hit the arm rest. Great, he was taking after England again.

"I mean, who are you?" the bear said, pawing at him again and nudging the bowl closer. He stared at the bowl, then back at the hockey stick and finally at the door. Dammit, he wasn't England who thought he knew what was best for everyone. He was going to help his neighbor out.

"Today, I"m Matthew. I'm going to see if I can head them off and warn Alfred," he told the bear. Seeing that this was his last chance, Kumahero, placed his paws on his knees and looked at him with huge eyes . . . aww.

"Feed me," he said, nipping at his hand. Ow, he was going to have to wait then, mean old spirit bear.

"Go get stuck in a beehive, Kumazinco," he said, putting on his coat.

"It's Kumajiro," Kuma complained, head butting his knees. Matthew managed to keep his balance and stumble to the door.

" Oh, sorry, look, I don't have time for this,"he said, opening the door, but he had to look back. Cute, polar bear eyes, gah, fine, but he wasn't giving him the salmon. He marched back to the kitchen, getting some canned tuna and a can opener.

"Here, use a can opener," he said, sliding the can and can opener to him. He was probably smart enough to use it correctly.

"It's not fresh meat," the bear said, sniffing the metal tin and pawing at it. He might have to open it for him later, once the crisis was averted.

"Next time, you don't leave me alone, with a bunch of countries looking to wrestle information out of me," he said rapidly, struggling to open the door with mittens on. Screw it, his fingers wouldn't fall off, it was summer.

"They didn't need to, now did they?" The bear shouted back, obviously giving up on opening the can himself.

"That's it, Kumazero. I'm out of here, and the house better be in the same condition I left it in when I come back, or it will be canned food for a long time," he threatened, and the bear stared down at the tin in horror.

"Okay, but why did America quit? People don't notice you exist, and you don't quit," the bear said, looking up. Matthew had finally managed to open the door, but the question distracted him. He'd worried when all the seemingly unrelated events took place, but now that he knew what caused the problem, he was sure America would be fine.

" Alfred just needs time to be alone and think. Now, I really need to go. I promise to give you a big old fish when I get back," he said, feeling sorry for the bear who had started gnawing on the tin can.

"Good luck," the bear said, momentarily stopping his pursuit of the tuna inside. Matthew sighed. This is not how he had seen his day going at all. He picked up his hockey stick.

"Thanks, I'm going to need it," he said, closing the door and focusing on the task ahead. He was going to have to drive like mad, but the day was young, and he was full of donuts.

The car ride, unfortunately, involved packing everyone into a large van that they managed to rent for cheap, and due to bickering, England found himself absently switching to the left lane. Ludwig's reaction was instant. He took control of the wheel, from the passenger's seat and kept them from crashing into a Chevy. From then on, Germany drove, and England was stuck next sitting next to France. Japan offered him his condolences, but Arthur remained cross. He knew which side to the road to drive on in America, dammit.

There was no other major incident after that, although there was plenty of bickering, mostly between himself and Francis. Russia occasionally said his two cents but otherwise, remained civil. Heracles and Feliciano surprisingly didn't take after their ancestors and chatted amiably. Japan lately only seemed to pay attention to his phone. China stared out the window, looking somewhat bored. Eventually, they arrived at an apartment complex a ways off from the main campus, but close enough that the commute wasn't too bad. The place was plain, decently well kept, and quiet.

"Okay, England will talk to him, even if he seems to have lost his way with words, " Ludwig said gruffly, pushing him towards the front of the group. The apartment was at the edge of the complex on the third floor and quite a walk. Eventually, Arthur found himself in front of a door with the American flag on it. Could he be even less subtle? Damn American. He knocked, and there was quite a ruckus as America scrambled to answer the door.

"Hey, dad, glad you could stop by before school started, come on in. Matthew told me you were coming," he said, smiling obliviously despite Greece's "This is an intervention" sign. England was suddenly having trouble processing the situation. Dad? He never called him that before. Sure, he'd called him brother, Arthur, Great Britain, Red coat, black sheep of Europe, England, Iggy, but never dad.

"What is he going on about?"he asked.

"America's lost his mind. I knew it," Russia said.

"Let's not jump to conclusions. America, you need to stop this nonsense and go back home" England said, causing America to pout.

"Dad, I know you're worried, but I know what I'm doing," he said, and there was that word again. He didn't hate it, but hearing Alfred call him that felt unnatural. He was about to say so when China cut him off.

"That's it. He's delusional. I'm getting my money while he's still lucid. Alfred, do you mind? " Yao said, strategically avoiding calling him America.

" Oh, yeah, here Yao, that should cover it," he said, taking some money out of his wallet.

"Thank you, I'll be waiting in the car," he said, pocketing the money. Ludwig handed him the keys.

"America, I know that we all yell at each other and don't get along that well, but please don't leave us!" Italy said, getting on his hands and knees while practically bursting into tears. England didn't know why he'd expected Feliciano to make a sound argument. He always saw hints of something deeper underneath but never anything conclusive. This wiped the smile off of America's face. He crouched down and patted Italy's back.

"Hey, Feli, calm down, you guys can still come and visit. You're all my friends after all," he said, helping Italy up who had cheered up considerably. England frowned, somewhat bothered that America kept avoiding using their real names. What if he was serious about this? What if he did retire into a life of obscurity? All because of him.

"I think you forgot I was here," Russia said, in his usual soft if sad tone. England watched America carefully for signs of irritation. Surely, he couldn't hide his dislike for Russia.

"Don't be like that Ivan. We're friends," he said, smiling again- not even a twitch. Yes, he'd taken what he'd said, very seriously- drat.

"Well, I'm sold. I quite like this new Alfred fellow," Russia said, immediately switching loyalties.

"He's the bloody same person he was before," England snapped. He wasn't going to go along with this damn charade. America had to accept that there were things he couldn't change.

"I told you to let him be," Japan said, and England was in no mood to be polite.

"Shut up, Japan, we need to lure him out while he's near the door," he said, but Japan hadn't changed his mind.

"Good luck with that," he said, attracting America's attention.

"Hey, Kiku, playing anything interesting? " America asked, finally noticing the otherwise quiet Kiku.

"Actually, I'm looking at some videos," he said, and America glanced at the phone's screen.

"Cool, anime girls," he said, letting out a whistle that caused Japan to become flustered.

"Um, well, I was doing . . . research," he said, pathetically hiding the screen, despite the fact everyone had seen its contents.

"That reminds me, I met some of your people," he said, and the change of subject appeared to help Japan calm down.

"Oh, it's pretty common for people of other nationalities to come here and study, no?" he said, probably thinking he might have seen them while touring the campus.

"Not like that, I met a bunch of otakus yesterday at the comic book store, they recommended a whole bunch of things for me to watch," he said, holding up several box sets of expensive looking anime.

"I'm not an otaku," he said, a poisonous red aura surrounding him.

"But, you said you prefer 2D over 3D. It was so freaking obvious," he said,not seeing what the big deal was. Arthur supposed that Japan didn't want to be called a fanatic.

"Alfred, get this through your head, I am not an otaku," he said, clenched fists at his sides while small puffs of smoke came from his head. America held his hands up in surrender.

" Okay, no need freak out on me," he said, pausing to do a head count, or so England imagined this was the case when he pointed at each of them and muttered something inaudible under his breath.

" Anyone want cookies? A bunch of girls stopped by and brought me some," he offered, smile growing wider. As one would suspect, this caught France's attention. He raised an eyebrow.

"Girls?"he asked worriedly. England hadn't quite pictured him asking that in such a manner.

"Yeah, you know how I strike out with girl countries. It's the freaking opposite with people. Man, I love people, always have," he said, rambling good naturedly. France shook his head, clearly concerned, and usually when Francis of all people was concerned, it was serious.

"Oh, mon ami, it's a really horrible idea to get attached to people," he said, and Arthur finally understood what Francis was worried about. They'd all been caught in the tangled mess of mortality at one point or another in their lives. Of course, some of them never seemed to learn, case in point, Alfred.

" Pshht, how am I supposed to know what my people need if I don't talk to them," he said, which sounded reasonable enough, but certainly didn't alleviate France's worries.

"But,"Francis said, and America shook his head.

"Relax France. I've frankly known a lot of people in my life. I know nothing lasts forever, but by god, if I don't try to make a good friendship last as long as it can," he said, slipping into a sentimental tone, one rarely heard coming from America, unless of course he wanted something. Still, it was truly rare for him to speak in such a way because he was in fact missing something or someone.

"Now I would appreciate it if everyone came inside. The cold air is getting out," he said, fanning his face, to make his point. Russia entered first, followed closely by Japan, Italy and Greece, traitors, all of them. Then, Germany, who had yet to speak to America personally, came in. England sighed. Him too? Perhaps, it was time for a change in tactics. He came inside, but France hesitated.

"I know you want to do this to prove you're in control of your actions, but you can't escape who you are, Amérique. Besides, lots of people are going back to school in your country, correct? It's not strange that you would get that impulse," he said, pointing out that there might indeed be a subconscious reason for America's desire to get into academics. Alfred chuckled for some reason, and answered.

" Forget about that stuff Francis, come on, today, you're just my uncle. " France scratched his head, and England simply thanked the cosmos that he didn't say mommy.

"Uncle?" he asked, and America nodded, keeping a straight face. Alfred had obviously given this a lot of thought.

"Yeah, the fun uncle that sneaks me sweets when my dad isn't looking,"he said, and England scowled. It did sort of fit.

"Ha, here that, I'm the fun uncle while you're the fuddy duddy dad," he said, laughing and pointing at England. He replied back automatically.

"I outrank you. Wait, what am I saying? America this is ridiculous," he said, dismissing the thought. He wasn't his father. He wasn't even his bloody brother. America went into the kitchen and came back with a mug with the phrase, "World's best dad." Of all the blasted memorabilia, he had to bribe him with that.

"So you don't want this mug?" he said, and he was just about to decline when Russia raised his hand.

"I want the mug,"he said. Oh, hell no.

"No, it's mine. . . I mean, you can't quit," he said, looking like a giant hypocrite- bollocks.

"Prussia did," America said. Ah, so, he's going with Prussia is a lazy bum excuse.

"He didn't have choice," he said, and Germany shifted uncomfortably from his position on the couch at the mention of his brother. It may also have had something to do with him being in the middle of Greece and Italy while Feliciano reached for one of the kittens on Heracles lap.

"The point is I won't poof out of existence if I do," he said, standing up and retrieving some tea from the kitchen.

"Tea?" he offered, and Japan immediately raised his hand.

"I'll take one," he said, and America automatically handed him the other.

"Oh thank you. Hold on, Canada couldn't have called you that long ago, but you had tea already made," he said, thinking the impossible. Did he actually like it? America rubbed his neck and avoided eye contact.

"Umm . . . I anticipated your arrival. Who wants to watch tv?" he asked, turning it on.

"I call the remote," Greece said, raising his hand. England snatched it.

"Fat lot of good you've been. You don't get the remote," Arthur said, contemplating which channel had Doctor who when the door to the bathroom swung open revealing Canada. He lost control of the remote shortly after that.

"You let them in, great. What happened to barricading the door?" he said, and America shrugged.

" I kinda decided that it would be less expensive letting them in, than Ivan kicking down the door. By the way, I gave away your tea," he said, smiling sheepishly. Canada rolled his eyes.

"I'll make some more. Do you-" he said, and Alfred cut him off.

"Of course I don't want any, I only bought it because I know you guys like it," he said. A suspiciously specific denial but Arthur decided that he didn't really want to bother questioning him today.

"Whatever," Canada said, going into the kitchen to prepare the tea.

"Ludwig, you haven't said anything. Everything okay?" Alfred asked. Ludwig massaged his temple likely to stifle his rapidly growing migraine.

"I don't think, pretending to be human is going to help you," he said, and America sighed.

"It's my choice, and unless you all band together to drag me out of here kicking and screaming, I'm not going anywhere," he said, and Germany took control of the remote.

"I know. It's why I haven't tried anything. I lost hope around the time we lost Russia," he said, putting on Kim Possible. America smiled.

"These cookies are delicious," Russia said, taking another. Arthur hadn't even noticed when America placed them on the coffee table. He took one-not bad.

"So, I take it, we aren't having an intervention?" Greece said, letting the kittens lick the milk off the tips of his fingers. Arthur considered his options. He couldn't think of anything that would make America change his mind or force him to give up, at least not without help. Well, America was bound to get bored eventually. He would let him quit on his own time.

"I suppose so," he said, accepting the half hug Alfred gave him. He suppose the current situation did have its own upside.

"What's taking so long?" China said, knocking on the door loudly.

"We're having milk and cookies," Italy yelled so China could hear. There was some cursing.

"And, I ordered a pizza. Do you want to come in?" Alfred offered.

"Yeah, let me in, it's hot in the van," Yao said, and America let him in, and he squeezed in between Japan and himself.

"So, did you guys get him to quit?" Yao asked when Alfred left the room to order pizza. Everyone shook their heads. Greece kept one of the kittens from going under the couch.

"America doesn't quit," Greece said, letting Japan play with the kitten that had tried to run off. England still highly doubted it. America also never did anything he didn't want to do.


	4. Total Dejavu

Total Dejavu

Let's see. Move out of the White House and say goodbye to everyone, check. Buy discounted IKEA furniture from Sweden, check. Befriend next door neighbors, check. Throw a small get together for said neighbors, check. Successfully avoided being sucked back into a previous lifestyle, check. Tell Tony where he lived, no.

"Okay, I admit this is really short notice, and I didn't call you, but what do you think?" he asked Tony who had barged in at three a.m. to smack him with his laser gun. Luckily, he tended to keep it off because of the annoying buzzing sound it made. Tony looked around and shook his head.

"This is not a mid-life crisis, Tony. I would know," Alfred said. Tony crossed his arms. Oh, he was going to give him attitude was he?

"No, it's not because of something England said. Okay, so maybe he did say something," he admitted, avoiding eye contact with the alien. He disliked the insinuation. It was completely his choice. Tony slurped his soda, and said something about probing things nicer than his place.

"Hey, don't go dissing the apartment just because I don't have a guest room for you to use anymore," he said, fumbling for his glasses and turning on his lamp to face him. Tony put his laser gun away and walked out of the room. America shook his fist at him.

"Fine, leave me. Nixon always said you were a mooch," he shouted, using his cupped hands to amplify his voice. He grinned when Tony came back and laid down on the extra futon.

"That's what I thought," he said, turning off the light.

"No, Tony we're not getting a flat screen," he said, getting irritated. Tony finished his soda and looked at him.

"Well, I'm sorry it's not up to your high standards. It came with the furniture," he said, not thinking much of it at the time. He didn't want to misuse the money the government gave him, and he didn't think it was that bad. He still remembered his old black and white t.v. with a whopping three channels.

Tony went through several channels, stopping to point and laugh at the history channel special on aliens. America rolled his eyes. The quality had really gone down since the Smithsonian made their own channel. He finally settled on Animal Planet. He pointed to the whale on the screen

"Oh no, the whale is not living with me anymore, but it's cool. Obama said they'd continue to let him stay at the White House, and I managed to convince most of the Republican hopefuls to do the same if they get elected," he said, trying not to think about it. He had very mixed feelings about the ongoing election. He usually didn't sweat the primaries, but it seemed a certain decision made by the Supreme Court had really tipped the balance of power in a worrying direction. Tony threw a pillow at him.

"Sorry, just thinking about stuff," he said and now came the awkward part.

"You don't have to stay here if you don't want to. If you're waiting for me to change my mind, it's not happening," he said. Tony raised his hands in the air and dropped them back on his lap.

"Why? Well, why not? Why can't I just be normal?" he asked, tired of that question. It wasn't the first time he'd made a spur of the moment decision. Tony pointed to himself and looked down. Alfred sighed.

"It's not that I don't want you around Tony, but you have to understand that it's not going to be the same," he said, and Tony didn't respond for a long time, before finally punching him in the shoulder. Ow.

"Yes, I brought the video games with me. I'll take them out if you want," he said, rubbing his arm. Tony nodded, propping his feet on the coffee table.

"Hey, don't put your feet on the table and use a coaster," he said, getting out the Xbox and wireless controllers. Tony made some surly comment about him becoming a British kill joy, typical.

"I am not turning into Arthur. I just really like that table," he said, setting up the game system. Hopefully, he'd be less cranky after a few rounds of Marvel vs. Capcom. Things went well for a while. Tony as usual had better dexterity and won most of the matches, but it didn't stop him from smashing buttons repeatedly. Then, Tony paused the game abruptly. Alfred stopped smashing buttons and sighed.

"What now, Tony?" he said, leaning back on the sofa. The alien shook his head again and gestured to the entire apartment.

"Yes, I technically know everything they know already and to you, it seems like a waste of time, but think of it this way, why did you come to earth if you already had a home planet?" he asked. Tony shrugged and scratched his head.

"Yeah, you were probably bored, maybe wondering if it was time to do something different right?" he asked, and Tony nodded.

"Okay, then, let's beat the crap out of each other," he said, un-pausing the game. After a few more rounds, they stopped, switching to a few other titles, mostly of the first person shooter and combative variety. When it started getting dark, Alfred turned off the system.

"Sorry, I need to get used to turning in early," Alfred said. Tony crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

"No, I'm not getting old," he said. Tony walked into Alfred's room sulkily and laid down on the futon.

"I swear that we'll do something fun together soon okay, just not now," he said. The alien raised his head and adjusted the position of his pillow.

"Yes, I mean it," he said, and the alien pointed outside.

"Okay, outside is harder for obvious reasons, but sure, we'll do something fun outside,"he said, not as sure of himself on that one. The White House was much more secure than an out of the way apartment complex. But then again, an out of the way apartment complex was much more secluded than the White House. He could definitely pull it off.

" I don't care if a cartoon alien can pull it off. You're not going out in a wig," he said, hands on his hips. Did he really think that would work? Tony went back into the bathroom to change.

"Try something like a hoodie," he said, and Tony did look slightly less conspicuous in a hoodie and shades. Yeah, they were going to get caught.

"You wouldn't by chance have some sort of mechanism that would make you look visibly human?" he asked, and Tony slammed the door in his face. So no, no, he didn't.

"I'm sorry this is difficult, but we've never really tried going out in public. I'm nervous," he said. Tony opened the door a crack.

"You look fine. We'll go to a movie. That should be pretty easy," he said, and Tony walked out and opened up his arms as if he wanted a hug, but he knew pretty well what that meant. He wanted a large soda and a big tub of popcorn.

"Actually, we're sneaking in food," he said. Then, the alien shook his head again.

"Yes, I know that's how movie theaters make most of their money, but we're on a budget," he said, and that's how he would continue to justify his smuggling.

"Don't worry. I'll be carrying the food. You just have to act casual," he said. Tony nodded, pointing to the T.V. and then outside.

"Okay, so it's not technically outside," he said, and Tony crossed his arms.

"Fine, we'll go to the zoo later," he said, and Tony started heading outside. Alfred trailed behind him, knowing the alien wouldn't take their new mode of transport well. The alien looked around and pointed at the parking lot.

"Where's my car? Um . . . I don't have one anymore," he said, and Tony threw his laser gun at him. Alfred flinched but managed to catch it. He stuffed it into his jacket and glared at the alien. While Alfred tried his best to be understanding, he was liable to snap if pushed to far and many had learned that the hard way.

"Hey, watch it, do you want to go with me or not?" he said, and Tony, finally bothered to speak.

"This sucks," he said, and Alfred responded with a shrug of his own. There wasn't anything he could do about it. He had insisted on only taking a few select things. No reason to live as if he were simply on vacation or moving to a new address. It went against what he was trying to do. He was Alfred now, and a college student of his current means did not have a Lexus, let alone one in each color.

"We'll take the bus. I'll even spring for pizza when we get there," he said, and Tony followed him to the bus stop reluctantly. Yes, when in doubt, food made an excellent bribe.

"So, what do you want to see?" he asked, kind of knowing the alien's tastes already. Tony shot him a look.

"The one with the asshole teddy bear?" he asked, and Tony nodded. Alfred crossed one more thing off his list, appease Tony, check.

He paid the bus fair for both of them and a few people looked at the two questioningly. He knew exactly what to do in this situation. Maybe, he wasn't enjoying the perks anymore, but he could definitely say something somewhat reasonable and have most people believe him, the weather balloons bull for example.

"He has a skin condition," he said, and people immediately started avoiding eye contact and apologizing for staring. Alfred sat down and picked up the spare newspaper on his new seat. The alien sat and kicked his feet in the air.

"See, piece of cake," he said. Tony nodded and pointed to a bunch of giggling girls in the back.

"Oh no, I'm not going to try and hook up with anyone while I'm in school," he said, and Tony hit him with a newspaper. Really, he was hitting him again? He needed less violent friends.

"What do you mean what's the point of me going to school then? What is this? The 1800s? Am I a girl at Vassar?" Alfred said, and Tony shrugged instead of replying directly. He held up one finger and threw him a meaningful look.

"I know I've been out of the game a while, but the last couple of times really hurt, sometimes literally," he said, wondering why Tony even brought it up. Tony looked out the window almost in a panic, before turning around and tapping him on the shoulder.

"No, this isn't our stop. I'm paying attention, relax,"he said, and Tony made a heart with his hands and cracked it by opening his hands in a jerking motion.

"We're not talking about that. She's gone. That's all there is to it," he said, reclaiming the newspaper. Tony pointed to him and the girls again.

"When will I try again? Well, I think I'll just see her and know, you know?" he said, fixing his hair when he noticed one of the girls looking at him. It didn't mean he didn't want to look good in front of them.

"So never," Tony said. Alfred cracked his knuckles. The alien wasn't the least bit intimidated.

"You're lucky we have four more stops before we get off," he said in a huff. What did it matter anyway? He'd been through that song and dance several times. If he wanted to be happy, it was better to leave love out of the equation.

Things hadn't gone as smoothly as he hoped. He had kind of expected to sail through the first day with little qualms, but he'd found himself wandering around lost, seeing the same person reading a book in Harvard square, over and over again. He wasn't sure why he kept seeking her out and failing to get to class. There were plenty of other people around him, maybe even a few that wanted to meet him. Still, she looked extremely familiar in a very unfamiliar place. She had short blond hair that framed her face in a way he imagined England's hair would if he ever bothered to straighten it. Then, of course, she had blue eyes like his own, and he wondered if maybe that was it, but it's not like he hadn't seen other blue-eyed blondes around. So, no, that's not why she was special. He came a little closer, trying hard to appear casual as he walked by. She was too deeply invested in the book she was reading to notice him. She had slim fingers, and his eyes gravitated to her index finger, a cross ring. Something he tended to see on men, more often than not. The seconds ticked by, and he knew he was cutting it close, but it was bugging him that he couldn't place this quiet girl. Maybe he saw her at some long forgotten sport event? She had the toned body for it. The person finally noticed him. Darn, maybe, he was sending some pathetic telepathic distress signal. He could feel himself going red involuntarily. Alfred was practically three feet from her. He tried to avoid eye contact, but it was too late.

"Is something the matter?" she asked, moving some strands of hair from her face. She didn't look upset at least. He could feel the impulse to say something quick and leave kick in.

"Sorry if I disturbed you, I'm just trying to figure where my first class is," he said, turning around to make his exit. If he walked fast enough, he could avoid an awkward conversation with her. She started to pack up and follow, despite his hasty retreat. Alfred walked faster, but her eyes were still trained on him. Great, she probably feels the impulse to help him.

"Really, I'll be fine. I have thirty minutes," he said, checking his watch. She didn't listen, catching up easily. Maybe, he saw her in some sort of track meet?

"Let me help you," she said, taking the school map from him. He tried to take it back, but she dodged his attempts, smiling when he repeatedly missed. He grumbled unintelligibly. So, she was one of those, "I'll help you even if I have to pin you down first" types. Alfred gave up and told her where he needed to be. She nodded in recognition, beckoning him to follow. Alfred let his shoulders droop, so much for doing things on his own today.

"I can't believe you got lost on your first day," she said, leading him by the hand. He found it somewhat embarrassing. It had been a really really long time since he'd let anyone do that.

"Let's just say I'm directionally challenged," he said, taking the time to figure out this mystery girl. He obviously hadn't met her before, and most people tended to remember meeting him. So why was his brain nagging him to make the connection?

"No problem, I have time to spare," she said, and that did make him feel a little better, at least he wasn't going to make her late to class. He mulled over what he knew. A cross ring, possibly a religious type, so he saw her at church, maybe? No, his position on any religion fluctuated daily, and he never stayed at one church long enough for him to familiarize himself with the people there. She's a blond who reads. No, none of that was going to be of any use to him, unless he could remember the title of the book. Luckily, she had been in a hurry and the book she had been reading was sticking out of her pack. He recognized the black binding and gold letters instantly, a bible. It clicked.

"Say, is your name Lisa?" he asked, and she stopped charging ahead and turned to him, eyes wide. He hoped that he didn't come across as stalker-ish for knowing that.

"Why yes, how did you know?" she asked, pressing the button so they could cross the street in a minute or two.

"Let's just say someone in France misses you very much,"he said, and her small smile grew wider and coy while remaining tight lipped and frugal. She fixed her hair again and looked around as if expecting him to randomly appear from some nearby news stand. Perhaps, he had once.

"You know Mr. Bonnefoy?" she asked while they walked briskly to beat traffic.

"Yes, known him most of my life actually," he said, attempting to memorize street names and landmarks that would help him get their on his own next time.

"Are you his son?" she asked, and he blinked. Genealogy tended to get complicated for countries.

"Sure, let's go with that," he said, and Alfred immediately noticed her hand squeeze his more tightly. Oh, he might have just landed in her good graces.

"Very well, we will. So, what's you major?" she asked, and Alfred laughed humorlessly.

"I'm going to get that a lot aren't I?" he asked. She remained cordial and sunny, but he expected nothing less from her. Actually, from what he heard, he expected quite a lot.

"Of course, you can tell a lot about a person from their major," she said, and when she said that, he became dreadfully curious. What was she doing nowadays?

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours,"he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Deal," she said, and Alfred, at this point, had lost track of where they were going, curses foiled again. He never could get anywhere on his own without taking a ridiculously long time to acclimate himself.

"I'm pre-med, majoring in biology for my undergrad,"he said, and she definitely approved. Her lips had curved a tiny bit more. The smile told all.

"I am working on getting my masters in theological study, and plan to enter the doctorate theology program," she said, and he nodded, partially expecting some sort of theology degree. At the same time, it was disappointing. He would have liked her to explore other options but . . .

"Mind if I ask why?" he asked.

"My mother told me that I used to talk to God when I was little. It's silly, but I thought it might be a sign," she said, looking down with flushed cheeks. That was actually kind of a cute story.

"I don't think it's silly," he said seriously. He would give Joan of Arc's incarnation the benefit doubt about these things.

"Thank you, most people would call me crazy," she said, and he started to notice a multitude of students surrounding them. They must be getting close.

"Nah, I've done crazier things," he said, dismissing the thought with a wave.

"Like what?" she asked, and he wondered if he should answer truthfully. Lisa had, and that was enough of a reason to try, not that he would tell her anything too revealing about himself.

" I befriended a whale and an alien," he said, taking the easy way out. He had been both truthful and preposterous. She reacted like he intended her too. Lisa laughed, and it was surprisingly ungraceful. She snorted, but recovered quickly.

"You're silly, Alfred," she said, and man, if he had a dollar for every time he heard that, well, he would probably owe China a lot less.

"So, I'm told," he said with a bow. Then, something else popped into his head. Something he was sure the Frenchman would be very interested to know if he didn't already.

"I hope you don't think it's terribly nosy of me, but do you speak French?"he asked, thinking "Parlez-vous Français?" was probably the first thing out of Francis's mouth. Her smile left, and she looked up at the sky, feet dragging noticeably. Oops, he accidentally hit a touchy subject.

"I have always loved France very much and was fortunate to be able to visit, but I cannot, except for a word or two," she said, snapping out of her reverie and picking up the pace. He wondered if the old man knew yet. No, it definitely would have come up in conversation.

"Do me a favor?" he asked. She glanced at him while fingering her ring. He had a very good idea of who had given it to her now.

"What?"she asked absently.

"Don't tell Monsieur Bonnefoy that. It would break his heart," he said, and she giggled, although the delicate frown that formed afterwards told him deep down she knew this.

"I very much doubt that he cares if a young America tourist knows French," she said, squaring her shoulders and clearing her throat. She obviously believed it as soon as she said it. Alfred shook his head. It's not like he was trying to play matchmaker, but he at least wanted her to know how much Francis cared about her.

"You're special," he said, and she raised an eyebrow.

"So, I take it that he doesn't usually give tours to pretty young girls?" she asked, and he was about to point out that she was a pretty young girl when he realized what she actually meant.

"Just you," he said, sincerely. Now, if she had asked, if he would flirt with anything that moves, then, he would be in trouble.

"Perhaps, I have not given Mr. Bonnefoy enough credit," Lisa said, kissing the hand that had the cross ring on it. Alfred had an idea. Of course, if his hunch was wrong, it would completely backfire and make Francis look worse instead of better.

"That depends, did he hit on you?" he asked. Her eyes widened in realization, and her smile finally reached its full potential.

" No, not at all," she said, and Alfred grinned.

"He freaking loves you," he said, and she punched him in the shoulder. Ow, stupid Tony must have cursed him.

"You are a very excitable person, Alfred," she said, slapping him on the back.

"I'm not wrong,"he said, somewhat fixated on the issue. She needed to realize that was not France's gut reaction when meeting a woman. Lisa shook her head, sighing wistfully.

"Should I ever see him again, I will ask. Très bien?" she said, and it was enough of a promise for him. He wasn't going to put a gun to her head or anything if she didn't. No one could say he didn't try.

"Alright, thank you for walking me to class,"he said, waving goodbye.

"You're welcome. I hope we meet again," she said, waving back and running off.

"I'm sure we will," he said, heading inside. Good, he was only a few minutes late. That hopefully wouldn't be that big a deal on his first day. He could probably just sneak in.

A tall brunette slapped her pointing stick down on her desk. Alfred jumped. Okay, so she had noticed.

"You are late, Mr. Jones,"she said, somewhat hunched over and gargoyle-like in her three-piece grey suit. She was in her late thirties most likely, judging by the crow's feet around her eyes and the minimal amount of wrinkles lining her face.

" Sorry, I was a little lost,"he said. She should wave him away to one of the few remaining seats in the back of class without a fuss now.

"Try not to make a habit of it, if your transcripts are to be believed, you are a prodigy and should behave as such" she said, and his blood ran cold. He recognized that accent. Alfred suddenly saw a huge loophole in his, "people who live here will always treat him nicely" power. He decided to push his luck and test it.

"Or I had a lot of free time," he said, putting his hands in his pockets and shrugging. He heard a few poor souls laugh. The teacher quickly sent them scathing looks.

" Nonsense, one does not master the amount of languages, instruments, and martial arts you claim to with free time alone, unless you are fraud," she said, leaning over her desk and emphasizing the words so he understood that she thought he was one. Alfred took his hands out of his pockets and ran his fingers through his hair in dismay. He was hoping it would be a while before he screwed up.

"You don't seem to like me very much,"he said flatly. This appeared to be the right thing to say. She leaned back on her chair and her face became less severe and maybe, even a bit more understanding.

" No, Mr. Jones, it is not that I do not like you. I simply do not know you, so forgive me, if I find your transcripts hard to believe," she said. He decided to go ahead and just outright say it.

"Are you English by any chance?" he asked, earning him a scathing look of his own.

"What does that have to do with anything?" she said, her voice if possible even more forceful and deep, in a wicked step mother sort of way, not that he would ever treat her as such.

"Oh, no reason, it just explains a lot," he said honestly. She rubbed the top left corner of her forehead. A migraine was surely forming.

" My breeding has nothing to do with it. Please, sit down before you disrupt the class further," she said, finally excusing him.

"You're the one that made a scene," he said smartly. She pointed to the back row.

"Sit down, Mr. Jones," she said, and he raised his hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay, I can see there's nothing I can do to change your mind,"he said, giving her a somewhat apologetic look. Things had gotten off track quickly.

"Work hard and I may start to believe you are the exceptional person they claim you are,"she said, and he nodded, making his way up the rows while trying to avoid placing the painfully awkward spotlight on himself. He finally found a seat at the very top and sat down as inconspicuously as possible. Unfortunately, they were plenty of eyes on him already.

"Yeesh, she seems to have it in for you, Mr. Jones," the girl next to him said, immediately propping her chin on her hands to hyper focus all her attention on him. He lowered his head on the table's smooth cold surface and covered his head with his arms. This is the one of the few times that he didn't want the attention.

"Could you keep it down, I'm trying to keep a low profile,"he whispered and the girl- um, let's call her Miss Auburn hair for now, smiled obliviously.

"That's unlikely Mr. Jones," she said, looking him over with her sparkling blues. It didn't phase him anymore. He'd been checked out a lot, by other countries even- sometimes to an uncomfortable degree. She was fairly lanky and nondescript in her jeans and black jacket. And normally, he would have appreciated the idle chatter, but the last thing he needed was to attract more ill will from his teacher. There seemed to be a sort of excitable pep to her eyes that he would even call charming. Over all, she was definitely pretty. Not that he was an expert, it wasn't something he gave a lot of thought to anymore. All he really wanted was to balance chemistry equations and memorize charts like he was supposed to.

"And why not?" he said, trying his best to look gruff. His damn bright eyed adorkable face made him too friendly looking. He needed to look mean.

" Because I like you," Of course she did.

"Well, keep your affection to yourself," he said, pushing her as far away from him as possible.

"Are you British by any chance?" She asked. He almost said yes. No, let's not open up that can of worms, baby steps. Would he call Arthur dad? Sure. Would he say he was British? No.

"Why?"he asked.

"Because that would explain a lot," she said, smiling with a mocking sort of candor.

"I'd be more impressed if you didn't just hear me say that a few minutes ago,"he said wryly. She started shuffling through her pack, until she found something. She looked up at him full of excitement and anticipation.

"Wanna see something cool?"she asked.

"No, I'd rather hear what's going on," he said as he had indeed started losing track of what she was talking about. Luckily, he hadn't exactly forgotten how to solve the equations on the boards, and it was helping him keep up.

"I think you'll like it,"she said, taking out a paper plane, but not just any paper plane, a massively detailed, might as well be an exact replica, paper plane-sweet.

" Wait, you made this," he said, picking up and inspecting it. He flicked the propeller experimentally, and it began to spin.

"Yep, you can have it if you want. I have a lot more in my apartment," she said, putting her arms behind her head and leaning back on her chair, acting all accomplished. Alfred had zeroed on the words that interested him the most. There was a lot more of these paper masterpieces in her apartment.

"Mind if I stop by and check it out,"he asked. She smiled smugly. Alfred put a hand over his face in shame. So, he had figured out one of his soft spots, planes.

"No problem, so long as you hand over your phone number," she said, holding out her hand and waiting expectantly. He saw the potential for many unwanted phone calls at odd hours.

"And why would I do that?" he asked, and she put her hands on her hips.

"Cuz I don't think you're actually a British sourpuss," she said, hitting a nerve. He was nothing like Arthur- nothing. She kept staring at him, holding up her open palm. He did want to see more of those paper air planes, and well, he was supposed to make new friends. He wrote down his cell in one of his notebook pages and tore it off.

"Here," he said, letting her snatch it from his hand eagerly. She put an arm around him, making them a point of gossip to some nearby classmates, of the few who weren't trying to write every word the teacher said.

"Great, I have a feeling we will be best buds," she said in a higher pitch than he would recommend in the middle of a lecture.

" I think your powers of are foresight are greatly exaggerated," he said, readying himself to catch up. He was having trouble grasping some of it, surprisingly. The information he had was getting harder to access for some reason. Strange, he was surrounded by . . . inexperienced freshmen, that might explain it. He should be able to think clearly once class dismissed.

"Mr. Jones!" the professor shouted, and Alfred guessed.

"Bleach and Amonia?" he said uncertainly. It's what the majority of the class was thinking.

"That is correct, five points extra credit" she said although the look on her face said, "You got lucky. That's all."

" Remember class, memorizing all this may seem mundane to you now but everything you learn builds on itself, and it is useless to move forward without knowing the mechanics first," she said as the students started to pack up and shuffle out of the room. Miss Auburn hair was about to do the same, but he had a few questions of his own. She didn't seem to be the type to be taking chemistry.

"Forgive me for asking, after trying my hardest to ignore you, but you don't seem to be very interested in chemistry," he said. She shrugged, starting to stretch.

"Meh, it's a requirement for my engineering degree, but what I really want to be is a pilot," she said, and it still seemed this was the wrong place for her to be.

"Shouldn't you be in flight school already?" he asked.

"I am, but I don't plan on becoming a professional pilot. It's a rough road, and I'd rather fly my own plane than be dependent on a company and their dirt cheap pay, but I'm still going to be the best damn pilot I can be," she said, giving him a thumbs up.

"If nothing else, I appreciate the peppy attitude," he said, putting away his own stuff. She hugged him, and he semi-embraced her. Alfred would at least try and tolerate her overly affectionate and bubbly personality.

"See, I'm growing on you," she said, walking along side him. Something in his gut told him that he wasn't ever going to get rid of her.

"Mr. Jones!"the teacher shouted again.

"Hydrogen, and yes, we're leaving," he answered automatically. Mrs. Auburn hair gaped at him.

"How are you so good at half listening?" she said in amazement.

"What can I say, I'm a freak of nature," he said, running down the steps a little faster when he noticed a new class coming in. He thought about it. If she was sticking around, he couldn't just keep calling her Mrs. Auburn hair.

" What's your name anyway?" he asked, and she grabbed hold of the door's side and began swinging back and forth playfully. It was impressive that she didn't lose her grip and fall on her butt. Even more so, that the teacher simply rolled her eyes as she passed her. Apparently, she was a lost cause and he wasn't.

"Amy Alwood," she said, letting go of the door so she could free fall to the ground, laughing carelessly on her way down. Instinctively, he caught her, and in the process, he got a good look at her face. It finally clicked, Amelia freaking Earhart. Slowly, he helped her up and dusted her off. His face was unreadable, and she must have noticed his change in attitude. Her mouth was parted in mild astonishment, and she didn't say a word. Then, of course, he abruptly grabbed her hand and started leading her somewhere for a change. Yes, he was going to deliver a solid in your face to Tony this afternoon.


	5. Never Letting Go

Never Letting go

If Alfred were to be completely honest with himself, he had no idea where he was going. All he knew was that he did not want to stop. He had a death grip on her hand, and briefly, he wondered if he might have sprained it or even broken it when he had yanked her forward with little regard as to where she needed to be. It ceased to matter to him when he saw her because it was _her face_. He was going mad thinking of every little thing she had done that could possibly have to do with Amelia, so much so that he had tuned her out. In fact, she had to jab his side before he paid her a lick of attention. It only stung briefly, and he didn't bother faking the pain. Still, it refocused his priorities, _focus on the girl in front of you, dummy. _He stopped, blinking stupidly. Amy leaned against the wall and panted heavily. He must have been running faster than he thought. He moved a few strands of hair out of her face. It was a little longer than he remembered.

Alfred would have liked to subtly move his hand over her cheek, but she grabbed hold of his hand and lowered it. He studied her face, and it was the same reluctant gaze as before, looking past him. Great, he was making her uncomfortable again. How silly of him, he'd been so trained on the end game he'd forgotten the reason that they were never together. So far, he was rushing into the same story and that was the last thing he wanted.

"Sorry," he said, rewarded for his effort when her hand clasped his.

"Where do you want to go, Mr. Jones?" she asked. He needed to pick somewhere, anywhere, and he said the first place he could get to.

"My place," he said, ignoring the sensible part of his brain telling him that he had an alien hiding there, and no matter who she was, it was a horrible idea to go there. She smiled, skipping along beside him. He couldn't stop staring at her. The way her mid length curls bounced to and fro was too cute.

"Eh, really? You changed your tune real quick," she said. Alfred shrugged if he was too forward words like "controlling" and "warden" would come into the conversation like last time. Amelia had been very particular about how she wanted to be treated, and it had clashed horribly with his Knight in shining armor tendencies.

"Come on Mr. Jones, tell me the truth, you couldn't stand me ten minutes ago," she said, and Alfred didn't respond right away. She had a point. They weren't really the same person. She didn't step out of a plane after decades of being stranded in the Pacific. She wasn't the person he had been waiting for in California. And if by some miracle the four million dollars he had poured into finding her produced this look alike, he would have thrown a fit and told them to keep looking.

"I have this gut feeling that I want you in my life," he said. Immediately, she let go of his hand, and covered her mouth, eyes wide. He'd seen that look before, particularly right after a girl heard something they considered incredibly sweet. He must be doing something right. She grabbed him by the waist and pecked his cheek. Scratch that, he was doing everything right. Where was he going again?

"Wish granted Mr. Jones, but you don't know where the hell you're going do you?" she asked, and he almost walked into traffic, before Amy held him back.

"Okay, I might have gotten a little distracted," he said, and she giggled.

"How did you even get to class?" she asked.

"Guardian Angel," he said, and she hit him on the shoulder.

"Really, Mr. Jones, those are in short supply these days. How do you expect to get home now?" she said. Alfred took out his phone and typed in his address. He held up the phone triumphantly.

"And they said technology would destroy us all." He grinned, heading in the direction the phone told him to. Amy followed close behind.

"No, not really, like everything, it has the potential to be good or bad, but yeah, you'd so get taken out by a sentient robot," she said, and he impulsively picked her up.

"Pshht, I'd so end up smashing it with an axe and rescuing you," he said, and she hit him lightly with her curled fists.

"Put me down, you'll get me run over by a bus," she said. Alfred ignored her pleas. To him, she weighed next to nothing and holding her like this filled him with an alien pleasure he hadn't know for a long time, not since Marilyn at least. He crossed the street, starting to vaguely remember where the bus he needed to take was. She jabbed him in the ribs again. Sigh- she always has to do things on her own. He put her down, not wanting to cross a line that she'd made very clear last life time. _I don't need a hero, Mr. Jones . I already have a publicist. _

"You know, most girls would kill for a scene where the guy picks her up bridal style," he said, and she rolled her eyes.

"What am I a broad in a movie who'll get replaced in the sequel?" she said, and it was a fair enough point. Considering what she was, he really didn't want to comment on that. She rocked back and forth on her heels when he didn't answer, occasionally glancing at the bus schedule. He hadn't even asked if he made her miss class.

"You don't mind coming with me right?" he asked. She looked up at him which was strange. Amelia had been almost his height, his equal. Amy was about a foot shorter than he was.

" No, I have three hours to kill before my next class, and no homework," she said, and he thought about it. For all her talk, the teacher hadn't assigned anything yet.

"Good, I know that I kind of dragged you with me," he said.

"I don't mind. Apparently, destiny compelled you," she said, grabbing his arm and gesturing dramatically to the street in front of them.

"Very funny," he said, trying not to think about it too hard. That word had come up once or twice, and she had always berated him for it. _The problem with you, Mr. Jones is that you put all your dreams in a box when you use words like that. If you say I am your destiny, what you're really saying is, you have a nice little house with a white fence waiting for me, and I don't need to be boxed in like that. Now George, he wants me in the sky and that's where I want to be. _

"So, you live . . ." she started to say, and he almost said, in a box. It occurred to him that she was much more forgiving than Amelia had been, and maybe, someone more willing to put up with his quirks. He tested his theory in the most outrageous way possible.

"In a basement, where I will knock you out with a frying pan, victim number three," he said, purposely, using a creepy ghoulish voice and closing in on her neck with his hands. She laughed, holding his hands back instinctively.

"Don't play with me, Mr. Jones. I don't know you very well," she said, and he immediately dropped the act.

"All right, I live in a cheap apartment complex a few miles from campus," he said.

"That's nice. Maybe, it's near my place," she said, and he knew the odds of that were slim. He'd met at least eighty percent of his neighbors since moving in.

"That would be awfully convenient," he said, secretly hoping that she did live within walking distance or even driving distance. He would fix up a run down old car to see her if he had to.

"Or inconvenient if you are an ax murderer," she joked. He grinned maniacally, taking advantage of his superior strength to pull her closer to him. Amy stiffened, definitely uncomfortable that he'd suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders. She clearly hadn't expected it.

"Who uses an axe these days?" Alfred whispered into her ear, and he swore that she shivered at his delivery.

"What is your obsession with creepy serial killer talk?"she said, slipping out of his grip like a frightened kitten and shying away from his person. Oops, he'd been too convincing. Alfred made sure that there wasn't anything overtly sinister in his expression before answering.

"None, I don't really get to play around with people like that," he said, experimentally reaching for her hand. She hesitated but eventually closed the distance.

"Why not? No one is holding a gun to your head," she said although he doubted that she wanted him to act like that again any time soon. Oh, he could just imagine the looks on the other countries' faces if he up and decided to act like a psychopath. He'd be tranquilized and taken to a psychiatrist faster than one could say Sigmund Freud. Sure, they teased and insulted each other all the time, but there were certain things that they just couldn't say or do in certain situations. Even at their silliest, everyone was careful with their choice of words. Canada once apologized for having Airplanes as his ring tone on a September eleventh, that had been awkward.

"You'd be surprised," he said. She took out a paperclip and started unbending it.

"Live in Detroit or something?" she asked.

"No, I just get into some really messed up situations, and Detroit isn't that bad," he said, and she raised an eyebrow. Uh oh, he was starting to steer the conversation in a direction that would bring attention to his country status.

"How messed up?" she asked.

"Nothing I'm telling you about," he said automatically. She frowned, the bottom of her lip sticking out slightly.

"Why not?"she asked, meticulously bending the wire so it made a spiral.

"It's not something I like talking about," he said, voice low and flat. At first, it looked like she might argue like the stubborn brat he knew she could be, but she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Fine, but eventually, I will know everything about you," she said, and his heart beat a little faster. He could not let that happen. Alfred had already tried that, and his position had just pushed her away. _Yes, you love me Mr. Jones, and you will continue to love me until the American people grow tired of me. I pray it never happens and that I can be an example to all the little girls stuck on the ground wishing on some star. You love me for everything I can be, not for what I am. I don't think it's the type of love I want. I need a partner, an equal, and we can never be an equal ground. _

"How about something less ambitious like my first name?" he asked, and that got her attention.

"And that is?" she asked, and for a minute, he thought of withholding the information. He liked it when she called him Mr. Jones, but he was looking to change how things went this time around, might as well start small.

" Alfred like Alfred Hitchcock," he said.

"I knew there was a reason you were obsessed with serial killers," she said. It had occurred to him that she might make that connection, but he said it anyway.

"What can I say? I am equipped with what other people have called a fiendish sense of humor," he said, and she giggled again. It wasn't too hard to get her to do that. He liked the sound.

"I'm gonna call you Al," she up and decided when the bus finally came. He frowned, in faux disappointment.

" What happened to Mr. Jones?" he asked, and she seriously considered the question for a moment.

"I'll still call you that sometimes to mix it up a little," she decided, and he was satisfied with that compromise. She really didn't say much while on the bus, mostly looking out the window. He wasn't so fascinated by scenery. It all tended to blend together from decades of overexposure, part of the reason he had such trouble remembering how to get anywhere. He didn't really mind the quiet, and he was extremely pleased when she sought out his hand and held it in her own.

"Okay then, we should be getting off here," he said. She snapped out of her daze and nodded. They got off the bus and crossed street.

"Oh, hey, it's only a couple of blocks away from my place," she said, pointing to another apartment complex a ways off.

"Cool, you can come visit any time you want,"he said, knowing he might come to regret those words, depending on how often Tony and the other countries planned on stopping by. Whatever, he wanted her in his life, and he wouldn't hesitate to stick Tony or any of the other countries in a closet if he found it necessary.

"Sweet," she said, planning to walk in when he opened the door, only for him to hold her back.

"Hey, is there a reason you're making me wait outside?" she asked, obviously annoyed by the exclusion. He went inside, careful to not reveal too much of the interior until he was sure Tony was not inside. He checked the living room, spotless and no signs of Tony so far.

"There's something I need to take care of first," he said distractedly checking the kitchen, no gray mass in here.

"I don't care if you have dirty underwear lying around or something,"she said, making him blush, not that she could see it. He wasn't that messy.

"Please don't say that. It's nothing that bad," he said, not exacting lying. Tony did clean after himself most of the time.

"Then, why can't I come inside?" she whined. He didn't answer, checking his bedroom, nada. Strange, Tony usually stayed at least a week when he did stop by. When he returned to the living room, he finally noticed the note on the coffee table.

**Got bored. Went to work on stuff. Map of campus on table,**

** Tony**

He shouldn't be surprised, but it did leave him feeling a little insecure. Surely, he hadn't abandoned him because he didn't have that much cool stuff anymore. Then again, Tony hadn't exactly been a happy camper the day before. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Alfred had a good idea who. He must have forgotten to lock the door.

"Who's Tony?" she asked, looking over his shoulder. If he checked, he would bet that she was on her tippy toes. He didn't see a reason to lie. He would just be selective about what was said when it came to his alien bud.

"Probably my best friend, honestly," Alfred said although he might have to reconsider that.

"Is he your roommate?"she asked, and frankly, short of paying rent, he did function as a roommate when he was around.

"Sort of, he kind of comes and goes,"he said, letting her look at the note with the odd blocky lettering Tony liked to use.

"Then, I should see him eventually,"she said, and it was yet another thing he couldn't share about his life.

"Doubt it," he said.

"Is he nocturnal or something?" she asked, and it was a reasonable enough excuse.

"Something like that," he said.

She started exploring the apartment, and it didn't take her too long. He didn't have a lot of furniture or much interesting memorabilia to look at here. In the living room, there was a couch, a coffee table, and a small tv stand that held his tv and blu-ray player with a shelf underneath to house his humble dvd and blue-ray collection. Only some basic appliances in the kitchen, she had no better luck with his food stuffs. She went into his room: one king-sized bed. She even checked his closet: clothes, video game system, games and controls

"Your apartment is kind of plain. I expected you to have a lot of interesting knickknacks and keepsakes for some reason," she said, sitting next to him on the couch. Oh, if she could only see his real place, she'd be snooping for days but that was wishful thinking. He didn't want that life anymore and telling her who he was would only complicate things.

"I used to, but you can only carry so much, and I can never bring myself to clean my storage closet properly," he said, taking his mind to a place he didn't want to go.

"Or at least some granny hand me down furniture," she said, and he tried to think who exactly that would be, no one came to mind. They were likely long dead by the time he came into the picture.

"Don't have a grandma to get any funky furniture from," he said, realizing what it sounded like after he said it. Sure enough, she frowned, crossing her arms, and avoiding eye contact. Oops, he accidentally played the dead grandma card.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up,"she said, and he took the opportunity to hold her by the waist. He wasn't pushed away.

"Don't worry about it. She died long before I was born," he said, and she looked around, still really bothered by his place.

"Well, I guess you're an IKEA man now,"she said. He thought about inviting Italy over and handing him some paint and a brush. She'd probably get a kick out of whatever he painted.

"For now, yeah," he said.

"Maybe, I can make you a shelf or something so it doesn't look so sterile," she said, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. What if it ended up looking like something England might own? It might weird him out.

"Can I disassemble it by unscrewing a couple of screws?" he asked, kind of liking that he could rearrange, disassemble, and reassemble furniture without much effort.

"No, but I guarantee it will be sturdier than all your furniture combined," she said, and he had to admit that most of this stuff would collapse like cardboard if handled the wrong way.

"Bold words, for a shorty" he said. She hugged herself tightly and pouted. So, she was sensitive about her height.

"Hey, I'm good at what I do," she said, poking her chest with her thumb.

"You really don't have to. I'm good," he said, not wanting her to spend so much effort on something he may not even use.

"I'll have your place looking like an antique shop by the time I'm through,"she said. Then, it really would look like England's place.

"You wouldn't," he said, narrowing his eyes.

"You'll like it," she said, snuggling closer and securing his waist. He tensed, before ultimately relaxing. It's not like he hadn't done the same. The only downside was that he couldn't reach the remote

"Or maybe I don't care that much either way," he said, too content to really argue much.

"Mhmm, so, what's with all the patriotic thingy ma bobs?" she asked, and this could very well turn into a deal breaker.

"I'm kinda an all-around American boy. My birthday is on the fourth of July," he said, and she smirked.

"Cool, mine is on July second," she said. Stupid Canada, her birthday was closer to his. Never mind if Matthew's and his birthday would have been a day apart if it wasn't for a printing technicality, this would annoy him for a while.

" Don't move to Canada," he blurted out. She raised an eyebrow.

"You're a very strange man, Mr. Jones," Amy said. Oh, she had no idea.

* * *

_**Yeah, I really wasn't expecting to get this done today, but I really wanted to work on it and found myself finishing it. The weekend is looking iffy as far as getting any work done, school or otherwise, so just consider this an early update. **_


	6. This is Harder Than I Thought

This is Harder Than I thought

Alfred started blankly at the sheet. Symbols he used to know, confused him and the solutions escaped him. He ran his fingers through his hair and scowled at the calculus sheet. It was only five equations, the first of many practice sheets he would get. He used to develop rocket fuel for NASA & dabble in theoretical equations for fun. What was happening to him? A few days ago, he would have been able to complete it in less than five minutes and move on with his day. Could he have really lost all that knowledge in the span of two days? And why? He was starting to feel that he didn't understand how a country's physiology really worked. Maybe, it was time to make some calls.

The phone rang, and he eyed the number suspiciously. It was the first time since they tried to dissuade him that any country had called him up. Then again, he guessed asking France might be more painless than let's say asking England. Arthur would just tell him a big fat old, I told you this was a stupid idea, you damn twit. He answered, deciding that whatever France wanted was worth putting up with if he could shed some light on his rapidly diminishing mental and physical capacity. He had actually felt tired after attending his first class and running around with Amy and even worse when he went to his calculus class only to find that he suddenly knew next to nothing about it. Oh, and his professor was a recently immigrated Russian. Yeah, he and Obama were so going to have a talk about all this well intentioned but unappreciated meddling. It's not like he had planned to take advantage of the sway he had over people while he was here.

"Hello Francis, what's up?" he asked, and he could tell by the faint background music that he was comfortably in his hotel room. He doubted that he wanted to discuss something urgent.

" I have heard rumors that you met Joan's reincarnation at university. Please tell me it is not so," France said, sounding the tiniest bit buzzed, judging from his slurred words. Alfred tried to think if he had told anyone of his chance meeting with not one but two reincarnated beauties. Then, he remembered Matthew's late night call and how he had been more concerned with getting to bed than talking. He must have mentioned it in passing, oops, usually Matthew wasn't such a gossip.

"Yes, French people reincarnate in America, just to spite you. Oh, and while were at it, English people reincarnate in France, and people from India reincarnate in England. It's a conspiracy," he said, and then, France said a few choice words, eventually devolving into indiscernible mutters. Alfred was starting to regret taking the call. Finally, he pulled himself together long enough to make his point.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to insult you, and I was well aware of her American descent after speaking to her for a while. I am more concerned by your potential interest in her," he said. Alfred panicked and nearly threw the phone. He hadn't even thought of that. What had he told Matthew yesterday? _Oh, I met Joan of Arc's reincarnation, a real nice girl, walked me to class. After that, went in, the professor totally called me out, and I ended up sitting down next to her. Get this, I didn't even realize she was someone I knew. We hung out after class in my apartment. Wait, almost forgot, I really love her. I think I want to ask her out. _He nearly face palmed, at how he'd omitted Amy's name. He'd been too tired to realize how it sounded. His fault for relying on pronouns.

"No, I-I . . . I think Matthew misunderstood me. I wasn't talking about Joan when I said that I had met someone," he said, immediately hearing France's signature hohohohonhonhonhon at the news.

"Ah, I see, so she is not your ma chèri. Who is the mystery girl then?" he said. Alfred seriously debated hanging up the phone. He looked back down at the equations he had yet to solve. No, he needed an answer.

"Well, um . . . Harvard must be reincarnation central because I found Amelia," he said, and it was all he needed to say. A light thud followed, he must have dropped the phone. There was some static as he hastily picked it up.

"Sacre bleu! I need to tell everyone, and to think, Matthew doesn't even know. I'll patch him through," Francis said, making Alfred snap the pencil he was holding. He really didn't want this getting around.

"Wait, please don't- hey, Matthew," Alfred said, deciding to go ahead and talk to Matt. By the time he got a hold of France again, he could have easily sent mass texts and emails to everyone on his contact list, and once Japan knew, it would be on his blog within the hour, alerting anyone else that hadn't heard already. Sometimes he really hated the communication age. He would have to hope that they all remained apathetic.

"France said you found Amelia's reincarnation. Please tell me you haven't done anything stupid yet," Matthew said, pretty much aware of Amelia's issues with him. Still, he didn't have to make him sound like a stalker. So what if he'd tried locking her in a room before her last flight because he had a bad feeling about it, he'd been right.

"No, of course not, we just talked for a while yesterday, ye of little faith, " Alfred said, and he could hear him sigh on the other end.

"So, you didn't scare her?" he asked. Alfred thought of the brief instances where she'd been uncomfortable around him. He didn't think it was that big a deal. She'd giggled more than freaked out.

"She knew I was kidding," Alfred said. Matthew groaned. Apparently, his brother really thought he was oblivious enough to not be able to tell when he'd scared someone. Well, he guessed he'd freaked out Japan and Canada once in a while without realizing it.

"Great, at least tell me, you haven't gone overboard and involved anyone else in your inevitable obsessive pining," Matthew said, and Alfred glanced at FBI files on the coffee table, that could be misconstrued as obsessive.

"I may have had the FBI run a background check on her," he said, surprised to hear his brother curse on the other line, even if he could barely hear it. Finally, he took a deep breath and continued.

"That's insane, and you wondered why she felt smothered last time. You can't go around taking advantage of the pull you have to get what you want. What happened to I just want to be normal?" Canada said. Alfred frowned, knowing he had a point. He picked up a picture from the stack. She couldn't have been older than seven, and it was an extreme close up of her face showing off her missing tooth. Nope, he didn't regret it. In fact, he'd have to put in a good word for the guy who thought of bringing him family photos.

"I get what you're saying, but I just wanted to know a little more about her. It's not like she'll ever find out," he said, finding she had a broad range of talents, some expected and some new. She'd participated and won several events involving costume creation and clothing design. Apparently, she must have picked up a thing or two from Putnam because she'd been published a handful of times as well.

"Hmm . . . Is that why Mexico shot you in the foot?" Canada asked, reminding him of a very recent and touchy subject. It actually had been one of the few times he'd yelled at Obama for not giving him a heads up.

"Hey, George made it sound like a good idea at the time. She caught me off guard. I deserved it. Let's just leave it at that," he said, hearing him mumble something along the lines of, you're missing the point.

"Look, I know sometimes I can get carried away, but I," he said, before getting cut off by Matthew.

"Violated her privacy." Alfred sighed. He'd walked into that one.

"So, now, I know her family had some trouble with finances, and that she used to be pre-med before switching to engineering her sophomore year. Does it change anything? No," he said, hearing Matthew get up and whisper to someone. He figured out he was just feeding Kumajiro when he heard the can opener.

"Whatever, you still don't get it. Think of it this way, how would you feel if she searched your place," he said, and Alfred responded automatically.

"I let her." Matthew grumbled unintelligibly.

"Okay, bad example, I doubt you brought anything too incriminating. Wait, what if she looked through your wallet and phone?" Matthew asked. Luckily, thanks to his alias, he had a fairly typical wallet, but then, he considered all the presidential and legislative contacts he had listed in his phone. It would be really bad if she saw that.

"You're right. I probably now know several things that she wouldn't want anyone else to know. It's not like I can take it back. I've read the report they gave me already and her poetry and short stories. I'm checking out photos right now," he said before getting cut off by Matthew again.

"Oh, tell me, you didn't order them to give you her whole life's story," he said, and he whistled innocently. He may have dropped a few hints.

"I could write a biography," Alfred said. He could have sworn Kuma called him a schmuck.

"You're hopeless. It's going to be as ugly as last time," he said, and Alfred rolled his eyes. Amy had made it very clear that she was plenty interested. Amelia's priority had always been her family, the sky, and later to a lesser extent Putnam.

"She's different this time. I think it's going to work out," he said.

"Mon pauvre frère, you always think that, remember Vietnam?" he said, making Alfred snap another pencil. Yeah, these problems probably weren't getting done tonight.

"No, I don't remember spending six months in a bamboo cage," he said dryly, not that he had it nearly as bad as his soldiers. Being what he was, he received special treatment and spent a considerable amount of time with Vietnam, enough to reach a sort of understanding. Of course, he'd escaped and found himself embracing the counter culture that had developed in his absence. Eventually, he had returned to see her and the results had been mixed and complicated.

"Don't take it that way, I mean that you think everything is sunshine and roses, and it falls apart horribly every time," he said while Alfred broke the pencil into tiny pieces. This wasn't something he wanted to hear, particularly when it was a completely different scenario.

"But it's not anywhere near as complicated as it was with Amelia or Vietnam. She's interested. I'm definitely interested, problem solved." he said, and he had an inkling that Canada was ready to give up on him.

"Does she know you're a country?" he asked, and Alfred bit his lip. He knew where Canada was going with this. He didn't like it. It was like he was trying to spoon feed him medicine.

"No," he responded reluctantly.

"Do you ever plan on telling her?" he said. Alfred wiped his hand over his face and looked up at the ceiling. Did telling her even matter if he never planned to go back?

"It doesn't matter if I'm not going to do that sort of thing anymore," he said.

"Oh really? What about when she starts aging and you don't?" Matthew said. He grabbed another pencil from the box and smashed it to pieces. Damn, they always seemed to think of things he never did. Both Amelia and Marilyn had known who he was, and they had both died young enough that their eventual descent to old age hadn't crossed his mind.

"I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead yet," Alfred said, slipping into a sullen tone. He had been looking forward to getting to know her and now this was hanging over his head.

"Alfred, do yourself and this girl a favor, forget getting involved with her, even if she shows up in a wedding dress, you have to let this go and move on," he said. Alfred wished it were that simple. Theoretically, all he had to do was tell her that he was too busy to hang out with her and likely would be for the rest of the semester. However, he was well aware of his flaws and knew that he would keep indulging her company for as long as she let him.

"I can't. You know me, do I ever just let things go?" he asked, and Kuma whispered no into the phone before Matthew shushed him.

"So, your track record isn't that great, but this was never about the girl, Alfred. This is about defying your lesser instincts. You want to be a better person, but if you do this, you're going to cause more pain and suffering than good," he said, and Alfred put all the photos he had of her next to each other. She smiled in each one, and only one stood out as different from the others, the dreaded high school prom picture. As always, she dressed for the occasion, and her date didn't seem like a particularly bad guy, but the smile was forced and her eyes didn't spark with her usual enthusiasm. She hated being there. She disliked her date. And if it hadn't been touted as something she'd regret missing, she'd be lying on some field looking at the stars, assuming she still liked doing that sort of thing. Alfred didn't answer for a few minutes, but Matthew knew better than to hang up. He was going to wait as long as it took for him to figure out what to say, but he already knew. _Please, stop trying to change my mind Mr. Jones, I won't be around forever, perhaps you should be looking farther ahead. _

"You're right. Tomorrow, I'll tell her that I can't see her anymore," he said.

"It doesn't have to be an all or nothing thing. You just have to control yourself and not get too involved in this girl's life," he said, and Alfred shook his head, even though Matthew couldn't see it.

"Trust me, if I don't cut myself off completely, I will get involved. Really, it's no big deal. I've known her less than a day," he said, and Canada sighed- again.

" Okay, try not to get too down, maybe, you can make less self destructive friends?" he asked, and he remembered Lisa, simply sitting down and reading a book in Harvard Square. Why hadn't he bothered getting her phone number? She'd been helpful and good to talk to without any other added pressure. Well if he didn't count France but it really wasn't an issue if he wasn't looking to date the girl.

"Maybe, thanks for the talk, Matt," he said

"No problem," he said. Then, he finally remembered the reason for all these lengthy calls.

"Wait Matt could you-" he started to ask before getting cut off by the dial tone.

"Help me with my calculus homework?" he asked no one in particular. He thought of calling France again, but he'd likely be interested in one thing only, and he was no longer enthused about that particular topic. It would only add to his current misery. He tried deciphering the first equation again. Screw it. He was calling Bill.

"Hey Bill, I know you're busy, but could you help me with my calculus homework?" he asked, and as always, he was more than willing to help him out. He managed to talk him through the first two equations without a problem, and Alfred thought he might even be starting to get it.

"Thanks Bill, you're always so good at explaining things," he said, when the bell rang. He hesitated, letting it ring twice. It was probably Amy, and he didn't really want to tell her to go away forever yet.

"Hold on Bill, I think I have a visitor," he said, putting Bill Clinton on hold. She was starting to ring the bell multiple times so he hurried to answer the door, only to find . . .

"Yao, What are you doing here?" Alfred asked. Okay, so, it hadn't been who he expected at all, so much for calling first.

"You said we could come and visit, and I needed a break from the bake sale," he said, coming inside. He didn't question the bits of broken pencil everywhere or his collection of photos of a certain someone.

"The what?" he said, wondering what that was about. They hadn't done a fund-raiser in a while.

"Yeah, they didn't tell you because England said you'd probably kick us out for soliciting," he said, sitting down on the sofa. Alfred closed the door and sat back down.

"That's silly. If they'd told me earlier, I probably could have had all my neighbors come out and at least buy a cookie or something," he said, and Yao nodded, glancing at the pictures on the table.

"I'm not interrupting something important am I?" he asked, and Alfred remembered he had Bill on hold.

"Shoot, I have Bill Clinton helping me with Calculus right now so I'm not going to be such good company," he said, picking up the phone. Yao frowned, snatching the Calculus sheet.

"You need help?" he asked. Alfred nodded, apologizing to Bill for the wait, now, onto problem number three.

"I'll help you," Yao said, and he tried his best not to make a sour face. Things were going pretty smoothly now that Bill was explaining things to him.

"Thanks but I'm kind of already-" he started to say before Yao interrupted him

"You can't go around asking your officials for help every time you don't know how to do something. Let me teach you," he said, and Alfred was about to politely decline when Yao confiscated the phone.

"Thank you for your help, but I'll take over from here," Yao said, hanging up the phone. He scooted closer and put the paper back on the coffee table.

"Now, tell me what you don't get," he said. Alfred didn't look directly at him.

"Almost everything," he said, and Yao muttered a hiya.

"We're going to be here a while," he said. Alfred had a feeling that his explanations weren't going to be as clear as his previous tutor. He was right. Yao had been trying to walk him through problem number three for an hour now. By now, Alfred wasn't the only one frustrated by the whole thing.

"No, no, no, that's not how you do it. We've gone over this three times or do you want one of my eight year olds to show you?" he shouted. Alfred grabbed his hair and seriously considered ripping it out. Instead, he took a deep breath. It was time for a break.

"Hey, what's that black box you brought?" he asked, successfully distracting Yao.

"Oh, that's the bento box lunch Vietnam made for you. She told me to tell you that she's proud of you, now back to math," he said, tapping the paper with his pencil. Alfred wasn't giving it another go until he had lunch.

"Couldn't we have lunch first? I'll make you something," he said. Yao handed him the box and stood.

"That's okay. I'll make something. You just need to heat that up," he said. Alfred stared at the box. She hadn't given him a gift in a long time. Alfred almost didn't want to eat it, but he was hungry, and it was food. He went to the kitchen to heat it up, deciding not to question how fresh it was. Things were a lot calmer during lunch. They ate and washed their plates when they were done without saying a word to each other. Before he could bring up calculus again, Alfred suggested an outing.

"Why don't we stop by the bake sale? I wouldn't mind dessert." For a minute, he thought Yao would say no to the suggestion and insist they work some more. He raised an eyebrow but opened the door.

"Sure, I think we're done here. I can't teach you. Maybe, I'll send Hong Kong or Taiwan next time," he said, and Alfred was relieved to hear that. They honestly hadn't been getting anywhere.

"Send Taiwan," he said, trusting her more than the other one. Yao frowned again. Right, bad move. They didn't really see eye to eye on that issue.

"I'll send Hong Kong," he said, and Alfred chose not to comment. It was enough that he was trying to help him out.

It was a disaster. They had talked about it. Everyone had agreed on a time and place, but for some reason, it had never occurred to England or anyone else to coordinate what all everyone should bring.

"You made pigeon cookies?" he asked, not even attempting to hide his disdain. Italy smiled, completely oblivious to England's disapproval. He held them up proudly.

"Yeah, I figured Americans would love pigeon cookies as much as Italy does," he said, and he could see Ludwig facepalm in the background. At least, he wasn't the only one who thought the idea was ludicrous.

"So you thought that Americans would enjoy eating a cookie that looked like a creature they consider no better than rats?" he asked, rage slowly building. How daft could someone be? Italy nodded eagerly. England took a deep breath and calmed down.

"Fine. We'll sell them cheap. Hopefully, they'll move that way," he said, dismissing Italy who went to set up his table with Greece who had helped bake the catastrophe. Well, no wonder, they're both a couple of bird brains. Now, for the next idiotic contribution, France's over budget pastries.

"Now France, we all expected you to make something delicious, but you've effectively put us in the hole before we even tried selling anything with all these expensive pastries," he said. France tsked him, putting an arm over his shoulder.

"Now, mon ami, you cannot put a price on perfection. Look at these Eclairs and tell me you don't want to ravage them," he said, putting the eclairs right up to his nose. Arthur gulped and resisted. He needed to make his point.

"Americans are cheap. They are not going to buy something that expensive from a street bake sale," he said, and France was about to protest some more when Canada spoke up.

"Well, actually, France and I decided to split the work, and I used less expensive ingredients. You can barely taste the difference," he said. England tested that theory, taking one of France's and Canada's eclairs and taking a bite of both. He was right.

"All right, Canada, you're promoted, make more French pastries so we can up our profit, then mix France's contribution with yours and lower the price," England said. Canada saluted him and France hmmph, still baffled by his protege's mastery of the art.

"And as for you, what is with this rainbow pop tart cat cookie thing? Are you even taking this seriously Japan?" he asked, and Japan looked up from decorating his post.

"Yes, I am. Trust me, China and I researched what would sell best. They are cheap to make and will sell well although I seem to have lost track of China," he said, managing to put up the sign by himself. England supposed that he'd have to take his word for it.

"All right, if nothing else, it might compel people to buy a pigeon cookie from Italy's booth," he decided, and Kiku nodded, getting off the ladder.

"Of course, we picked out location carefully. It is a beneficial relationship," he said, moving the ladder out of the way.

And that was it. Russia surprisingly had delivered a nice ensemble of meat pies, fritters, and cakes all based on his own cuisine. He imagined the Baltic states may have been forced to help based on the quantity of food he managed to bring, but considering how everything else was going, he wasn't going to complain about the extra pastries. He and Germany shared a booth, and they had managed to effectively pick and choose desserts from both their ancestries without much trouble. Then again, Germany had taken charge fairly quickly and nothing in the booth had passed England's hands. During the creation process, Germany had mostly asked him to hand him needed ingredients and tools. Still, everything looked delicious and was reasonably affordable if any passers by wanted a sample. As for making any money off this bake sale, he would just have to hope for the best.

England decided fairly quickly that he'd overreacted. The pigeon and Nyan cat cookies were selling like hot cakes. Italy, Greece, and Japan were having a hard time keeping up with demand. The French pastries were selling decently at the lowered price, and Russia's cheap and hardy desserts were also drawing quite a crowd. While not the most popular, their booth had attractive looking sweets, and he found that if he handled the exchanges, they sold more since Ludwig tended to scare potential customers off without meaning to. Then, another wrench was thrown in the gears. China finally showed his face with America close behind. Hopefully, he wouldn't make a scene and shut them down.

"Hey guys, Yao told me you were throwing a bake sale," Alfred said, sounding as if he might look the other way this time. He looked around and immediately went to Italy's booth.

"Oh cool, Pigeon cookies and they are four for a dollar," he said, getting five bundles and paying Italy. Then, much like Japan predicted, America noticed the Nyan cat cookies.

"Awesome, it's Nyan cat," he said, buying another few bundles. Okay, so maybe, they understood America's mind better than he did. China exchanged some words with Japan before taking over the baking process. Good, Japan had started looking somewhat overwhelmed a few minutes ago. He noticed that America started fiddling with his phone. Nothing particularly strange about that but what caught him off guard was the fact, he went to help Russia afterwards.

"Okay, I sent a mass text to my neighbors. We should get an influx of people in a few minutes," America said, listening to Russia's instructions and helping place orders. Germany tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. England cleared his head and continued filling orders, sparing Alfred a glance. Maybe, his hiatus wasn't such a bad idea after all. He seemed much improved.


	7. I'm No Superman

I'm No Superman

Finally, he finished his freaking Calculus homework, but when he double checked his work, the solutions all equaled 42? That couldn't be right. When he worked with Bill, he had come up with very different results. Alfred sighed and picked up his pencil, ready to erase everything and start over. When he tried to erase the first equation, the numbers made a break for it.

"Oh, no you don't," he said, running after the numbers. They were hard to see, even on his beige carpet. He spotted one of the fours run under the couch. He bent down and stuck his hand inside to try and feel the thing out when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Not now, Tony," he said.

"Why Mr. Jones, they called me a star but I'm not that out of this world." A rich and sultry voice told him, one he hadn't heard since the late fifties. Slowly, almost disbelieving, he turned his head to see the platinum blonde in a simple white dress that showed off her voluptuous figure. He suddenly didn't give a damn about the number four.

"Marilyn, what are you doing here? This isn't part of some freaky evil conspiracy is it? I'm sick of those," he said, getting up to greet her properly. Subtly, he analyzed her face. Alfred had seen a lot of look a likes. The first test, her eyes- brown- perfect, so many girls preferred thinking they were blue. The skin- flawless- glowing- no doubt if he touched her face, he would end up with Vaseline on his fingers. Her figure full and healthy- good, some would get the face right and turn out to be as skinny as a stick. All together, she looked the part, but what finally convinced him was her expression: open, soft, welcoming, and very practiced. This settled it, once and for all. Massachusetts was his favorite state.

"Sorry, I'm late," she said, and Alfred realized that the extra glow might not be from the Vaseline.

"I'm dreaming aren't I?" he asked. She took a seat, sprawled on the couch as if it was her own personal bed. For a minute, he had trouble remembering his own name. Everyone kept calling him Mr. Jones, well . . . the girls anyway. So, maybe, he could forget his real name for a while. After all, there was space enough for him, and America for all intents and purposes had left the building.

"Mr. Jones, why would you want to be awake?" Marilyn asked. He didn't have an answer right away. What did he have to look forward to in the morning?

"I have English at nine tomorrow," he said. She laughed and patted the seat next to her. The spot would put him uncomfortably close to her exposed thigh. Alfred sat down anyway. He could keep his hands to himself. Marilyn crossed her legs, and Alfred froze when her foot pressed against his own thigh. He found the feeling very distracting. He knew this could easily lead to less than wholesome activities. Based on past experience, he wouldn't be able to think straight for a week, and right now, his brain could barely do math. Alfred was saved from his increasingly impure thoughts.

"I was led to believe you were quite educated, Mr. Jones." she said, taking a sip of her Don Perignon. He wouldn't mine a glass.

"Lately, I don't feel . . ." America trailed off, struggling to think of the right word, calling it umph, wouldn't really cut it in front of Marilyn, imagined or not.

"Yourself?"she said, looking into the half-filled wine glass, most likely at her own reflection.

"Yeah, I guess you'd know," America said, not elaborating any more than that. Why rehash the past?

"It's not why I'm here,"Marilyn said, putting the wine glass down. He tried very hard not to stare at her lips or slip his hand behind her back. As much as he was enjoying this blast from the past, America didn't want to delude himself.

"But you're not really . . . um . . . here," he said, expecting to wake up or for her to fade away. Those thick red lips frowned at him.

"I don't need to be," she said.

"Then, why-"Alfred started to say. She put a hand on his shoulder, looking up at him with those half lidded eyes that always called to him._ I'm lonely too. _

"Because, you're letting your dreams slip away, and I can't let you do that," she said, squeezing his shoulder. Dreams? America tore through them, changed them until he couldn't remember what they used to be, and abandoned them without remorse. He wanted to be free. Done. He wanted not to get pushed around anymore. Done. He wanted to be as powerful as Great Britain. Done and done. He wanted to be the hero. Close enough, the world couldn't make up its mind if they all wanted his help or not. Sometimes he let them suffer, and sometimes they suffered because he helped. A giant headache, all of it. He wanted peace. With every new war, the idea seemed less and less feasible. Every time he was unexpectedly attacked, he wondered why he gave a damn about anyone else. When nothing ever seemed to get better, he wondered why he bothered trying, and the voice telling him to give peace a chance got a little quieter.

"What dreams? I've run out of them," he said dryly. Lately, all he did was fight to keep what he already had. Marilyn, sweet Marilyn, wasn't affected by his sudden bad mood. By now, her graceful smile had returned, and she was so optimistic and full of life, so like before, before things had gone downhill. Before they had let him know the news- suicide, or so they said. He had trouble finding reasons to carry on afterwards, channeling all the sorrow and hopelessness that followed. But life went on, after a week, he was back to cracking stupid jokes and being a diplomat. A country kept going until it was obliterated, consumed, or changed irrevocably. They never had much time to mourn properly. Unless the whole nation was mourning, he'd forget a death in an instant -a depressing prospect.

"Oh, you can never run out of dreams, Mr. Jones, and yours was so pretty," she said, practically clinging to his arm, her warm breath touching his neck. Pretty? Which one? The first one when he was still so naive? The ambitious one dashed by WWII? Or was it the one that he could never have himself and few knew he still thought about? That one? The one that had slipped out when they were drinking together? The one she had ignored.

"Pretty huh?" he said, recognizing his tone shift to a lower register. Yup, he accidentally depressed himself. He didn't need alcohol for that. Alfred put the Don Perignon down. If Marilyn noticed, she chose to try and charm him back to his usual self instead of commenting.

"Yes, there was a house," she said, extending her hand and gesturing at some imaginary suburban house, the one he had given up on.

"Stop," he said. He didn't want to think about it anymore. Things had changed considerably since then, and everything always, always ended in tragedy when he tried to make his dream come true. Marilyn shook her head and laid her head on his shoulder. Eyes trained upward, imagining his aptly described dream home.

"Not old and rotten like your Virginia house, no, a home in the suburbs with that little white picket fence, and a new Cadillac in the driveway, a fresh start where anything is possible,"she murmured, withdrawing her hand, letting the image take root in his mind once more.

"I've had an entire White House. The idea loses its charm, once you follow through, " he said, ignoring the little voice that said it wasn't the same. This was _Alfred's _dream, and anything Alfred wanted tended to take a backseat to what America needed.

"But you haven't Mr. Jones, that wasn't the house you were talking about, at least, not with me, and that brings me to the other part," she said, turning to him, with a hopeful, enthusiastic smile. He could feel something tighten in his throat as his eyes started to water. This was the part that always went wrong. There was no point in an empty house. Alfred might as well live in a rat-infested apartment. He had for a while.

"Please don't," he said, dreading the next part but unwilling to move. As unpleasant as this reminder was, she was still Marilyn, and she did not grace his dreams often, no reason to wake up just yet. She whispered the next part into his ear. It sent chills down his spine.

"The girl, and not just any girl, something special, you told me that was me."

"You're dead," he said simply. There was no getting around that, no matter what England said. Marilyn nodded.

"But Amy isn't," she said, removing her head from his shoulder. Amy- right, the girl he was excited about a day ago. He blinked. The spell broken as reality started sinking in.

"How did you know that?"he asked. She let go of his arm and stretched, the smile growing wider. He must have imagined the extra glow. It's not like they were on a movie set.

"Because I look after you, Mr. Jones," she said, and he remembered a very crucial fact.

"I'm dreaming," Alfred said, eerie that he could forget so easily.

"We've established that, unless you think you're dead too," she said, hitting his arm playfully. He hadn't even considered that, but he tended not to consider a lot of things.

"No, I'd feel it . . . I think. There's still so much I don't understand," he said. Would he even feel it when he died? Ever since that day, not so long ago, he had associated death with fire. Whenever it happened, there would be flames. He'd convinced himself of that.

"You have forever. I didn't," she said, and there wasn't a trace of resentment, only certainty. He nodded. For all his bellyaching, he had an ideal perpetual forever on his hands with no tragic and impractical conditions to deal with like all those movie monsters. America figured he was very lucky in that respect.

" Despite my demons, I lived a charmed life, Mr. Jones. I can't deny that. Yet, there is one thing I regret," she said, looking down at the empty glass on the coffee table.

"What's that?" he asked.

"I didn't give someone I loved a second chance," Marilyn said. She didn't look up at him, but she didn't need to.

"I'm flattered, but . . . wait, you're talking about Joe, aren't you?" he said, catching himself when he saw the beginnings of a frown form on her face. She slipped her hand into his. Alfred didn't like the implied pity and removed his hand.

"I love you too, Mr. Jones, but yes, I was," she said, accepting the quiet rejection. Alfred was very red and frustrated at this point. He threw his hands up in the air and started to rant.

"See, stuff like that happens to me with girls all the time. There's never a time when it's perfect and everything clicks." he said, forcing his own hands together in a tight embrace. She patted his back- a pity pat. Then, she put a finger to her lips.

"Shhh." She leaned over and whispered in his ear a second time. This time her voice made his blood grow hot.

"I'm going to tell you a secret that will help you out a lot." He nodded, tensing when she wrapped her arms around his neck. Again, she spoke, a hair's breadth from his ear, and a familiar fleeting pleasure returned.

"It's never perfect." She leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Surprised, but accepting, he returned the favor, deepening the kiss. It really looked like they might take it further, and he was vaguely aware of his hand wandering to her thigh when the alarm stole him away from his fantasy, weird number chasing scene and all. He wasn't angry. He wasn't even thinking at first. He dressed, brushed his teeth and had cereal. Then it hit him, damn, not even in his dream.

His English class went well as his Japanese language course had the night before, even after spending most of the day baking goods. For some reason, he had retained his rhetoric and language skills and not his science and math. Yeah, he needed to figure out why, and he had time to spare. His next class wasn't until tomorrow. Alfred decided, instead of trying to ask France this time, he would ask the expert.

"Hey, Prussia, I'm falling apart, and you're the only one who can tell me why," he said, playing up the drama. Okay, so maybe, he was exaggerating, but he shouldn't be feeling tired at nine or forgetting things he'd known for decades.

"Okay, you have thirty seconds before I hang up and go back to sleep,"he said groggily. Apparently, Germany hadn't been exaggerating. The warrior nation that used to wake him at the crack of dawn for training now slept until the crack of noon.

"I'm forgetting things, important things like math and chemistry- stuff I used to be good at. I'm tired all the time, and I couldn't even stay up past one yesterday. What's happening to me?" he said in one breath. Prussia didn't say anything for a while. America worried this was worse than he thought.

"You're becoming unawesome," he finally said. Jerk.

"I'm serious,"he said, gritting his teeth. Prussia laughed with the rough scratchy voice of a smoker.

"You're so thick sometimes, America. Did you really think that acting human was enough? No, it doesn't work that way. If you don't want to be a country anymore, you don't get the perks that includes extra strength and extra smarts," he explained, and a million questions popped into his head.

"What? I'm going to forget everything?" America asked. He doubted that he could even keep track of all of his memories at this rate. Prussia sighed, and it sounded like he finally got out of bed.

"A human doesn't remember every little thing, they have to work at it," he said, and that didn't ease America's anxiety at all. Maybe, he should make a diary.

"What about my personal experiences? Am I going to forget who I am?" he said, beginning to panic. A little voice in his head answered back, _Isn't that what you wanted? _

"Your memories don't vanish," he said, pouring cereal into a bowl.

"So, I just won't be able to do anything remotely useful anymore," he said. Prussia grumbled, taking a bite of his cereal by the sound of it.

"Some things stick, like the stuff you've done over and over, and the things you were always good at. Anything else, you have to relearn. It's what I had to do with the piano," he said.

"That sucks," America said, understanding Tony's reaction a little better. Having something suddenly taken away stunk, maybe, he would spring for a new tv.

"Look. This happened to me too. It's not as bad as you think," he said, muttering something he couldn't quite hear to someone in the room. He must have joined his brother for breakfast.

"Does this mean I'll start aging too?" he couldn't quite hide the excitement in his voice. He could be with Amy without any added complications. Prussia laughed again. He was starting to see what England found so irritating about it. It was like a mini chainsaw buzzing in your ear.

" Do I look like an old man? Say anything about my hair and I'll kill you," he said, the threat an afterthought.

"Oh," Alfred said. No, of course, nothing was ever that easy.

"You sound disappointed," Prussia said, fishing for the reason why. He saw no reason to lie. Gilbert probably would just rag on him a little.

"There's this girl, and I was hoping-"he started to explain.

"Hold on, I'll patch you through to France," Gilbert said, bailing on him.

"No wait don't- hey Francis, no, I'm not looking for love advice, " he said, cursing Prussia. Why couldn't he have just hung up the phone if he didn't want to talk about girls? Gilbert probably thought he was leaving him in good hands or maybe, he was trolling him. Alfred wouldn't put it past him.

"Francis don't bother. I'm doing fine," he said after France started listing ways to woo Amy. If he tried any of it, he was sure Amy would file a restraining order against him by the end of the day.

"Hey, I'm not as pathetic as England when it comes to women," he said, trying to remember if he had ever seen Arthur with a girl. It was moot point. America had been with girls before. So, what if it always ended in disaster? At least, no one ever called him a pervert. France went on to call him a prude who didn't know what he was doing. He smirked, deciding to mess with Francis a little.

"No, I don't need your advice. You want to know why?" he asked. France humored him and asked him what he had been up to.

"Because I just made out with a hot blonde," he said, hanging up the phone right when France gasped. Yes, he would pay for that later, but right now, it provided him with a deep satisfaction. Having arrived an hour ago, most of what he said passed over Tony's head. He tugged at his pant leg. Alfred was still weirded out by his sudden interest in his love life. He blamed the soap operas Tony watched.

"You want to know what hot blonde, Tony? It's not important," he said, thinking it would take too much time to explain, and now, that the moment was over, admitting it was more than a little embarrassing. That and Alfred doubted he would bump into Lisa again so there was no point in mentioning her either. Tony pointed an accusing finger at him with the hand that held his soda, spilling some soda on his pant leg.

"What do you mean I'm keeping you out of the loop? If you had stuck around, you'd be in the loop," Alfred said, letting himself be a little irritable. He hadn't forgiven him for ducking out early. Tony shrugged, taking a sip of his soda.

"I know you have stuff to do, but you haven't exactly been supportive," he said, more annoyed that Tony expected to be told every little thing that happened while he was away, particularly when he did not want to share. Tony blinked.

"Fine, I'll tell you, stop grilling me,"he said, putting his hands up in casual surrender. Tony nodded, sitting down on the couch.

"I met both Joan of Arc and Amelia's reincarnations. France was being annoying so I said I kissed a blonde, but I wasn't talking about Joan," Alfred confessed. Tony shook his head and drank more soda.

"Yes Tony, I know that was cruel," he said, crossing his arms defensively. Tony pointed to the paper airplane on the coffee table.

"Am I going to go out with Amelia's reincarnation? No, it's not a good idea," he said automatically. Tony put the soda down and stared at him incredulously, pointing at the paper plane again.

" Why? Because I'm not human," Alfred said, knowing, by now, Tony understood that regular people weren't supposed to know who he was. Tony put his hands on his hips.

"Okay, so it hasn't stopped me before, but . . ." he said. The thing was, even if he ignored Canada's reasoning, his track record was horrible, many had died young, suffered needlessly, or hated him by the end of it. He didn't want Amy falling into any of those categories. Tony pointed to the newly added world map above the TV.

"Maybe, someone did talk me out of it," he said. Avoiding the world map, lest, he reveal who. Tony slapped his shoulder and pointed at the map again. Alfred scowled. This wasn't the first time he'd accused him of that.

"I'm not letting people tell me what do," he huffed. The bell rang, and Alfred bit his lip, unsure how to proceed. There was a fifty-fifty chance of the person on the other side being a country. The meetings had concluded and the bake sale finished, but most of them weren't leaving till tomorrow. Tony didn't move. Alfred sighed, pointing at the guest room, better not risk it.

"Go hide, Tony. Someone's at the door,"Alfred said. Tony nodded and grabbed his soda, for once, not making a fuss. Once Tony was out of sight, he looked through the peep hole.

"Crap, it's her," he said, covering his mouth. The walls weren't exactly sound proof and tended to echo. He hoped Amy hadn't heard that. Tony opened the door a crack, holding up an old blocky cell phone, presumably to take a picture of his guest. Alfred covered his face with his hands, resisting the urge to scream into them, aliens sometimes.

"I don't care if you want to see what she looks like, just google Amelia, and picture her twenty years younger," Alfred hissed. Tony shut the guest room quickly. He was surprised he won so easily. The reason became fairly obvious when he turned around and found Amy behind him.

"Gah, how did you get in?" Alfred said. He could have sworn he locked the door. Hopefully, she hadn't seen Tony.

"Your door was unlocked," Of course, it was. He ran his fingers through his hair, frowning at her.

"I need better security," he muttered. She poked his shoulder repeatedly and looked up at him, cheeks puffed (so cute.)

"So, why are you so jumpy?" she asked, and Alfred automatically lied, using the first reasonable excuse that crossed his mind.

"I've been having trouble in calculus, and it's getting to me," Alfred said, absently yawning. Already naturally cheery, Amy's grand smile widened even more.

"I'll help you," she said, spotting the half-finished calculus sheet on the coffee table. He resisted the urge to take it. There was a chance he would rip the paper in half in the struggle and have to print out another sheet and solve the equations all over again. No need to make his life more difficult than it needed to be.

"No, it's okay, I'd actually prefer that you don't come over anymore," he said, blinking in bewilderment, when his voice sounded as soft as his brother's. Normally, he didn't get so flustered. Amy didn't register it, busy looking at the calculus sheet. She smirked, pointing at a doodle he had made in the corner. Oops, no one was supposed to see that.

"Why is there a doodle of a Chinese man on fire?" she asked. Alfred didn't look directly at her or the picture, rubbing his neck.

"Not important,"he mumbled. Alfred thought he'd have to repeat himself, but in a matter of seconds, Amy's expression changed as what he said sunk in. Amy's eyes widened, and she frowned. Oh Roosevelt, please tell me, she wasn't going to start crying. No such luck, her shock quickly turned to anger, and she closed the small distance between them and jabbed his chest with her finger. He flinched. Her glare practically burned him. Unfortunately, he had seen it many times before.

"Hold on, are you trying to get rid of me?" she asked. Alfred's shoulders slumped, looks like she was going to fall into the third category after all.

"Yeah, I don't have time to hang out with you,"he said, attempting to keep his voice steady. There was still a sullen undertone. Immediately, she lost her indignant rage, and a sly smile crept onto her face. Alfred backed away, unsure what brought on the change. Best to keep his distance until he knew what she was planning, not to mention the fact he was still very hormonal after his brief stint with Marilyn, it wouldn't do to kiss her right then, not when he was trying to get rid of her. She was so close but so frustratingly out of reach.

"But you have time for calculus and I know how to do calculus so . . ." she said, waving the paper in his face. She had a point. Otherwise, he would have to deal with Hong Kong, and he had no idea what kind of tutor he would be, but if some of his shenanigans were anything to go by . . .

"I guess," he said. Amy plopped onto the couch, completely at ease. She patted the seat next to her. The simple gesture struck a cord. Marilyn's words echoed in his head. _But Amy isn't. _Marilyn was right. She wasn't dead. Would it really be so bad if he tried again?

"Sit down," she said, pulling on his arm to get his attention. Alfred shook his head. He must've spaced. He decided on following Yao's advice instead. _Do math_.

"Fine," he said, taking a seat.

"Now, first we're going to erase this doodle because doodling on the paper is frowned upon by professors," she said, erasing the drawing for him. Alfred nodded, deciding not to comment. Boredom tended to get the better of him sometimes. She examined the first three equations with a critical eye.

"The first three seem fine,"she said after a few minutes of proof checking.

"I had help," he admitted. Amy frowned again, eyeing him suspiciously.

"So, do you actually know how you solved these?"she asked, and Alfred looked down, a little self conscious.

"Kind of," he decided, or at least, he had thought so. She punched his shoulder lightly, or maybe, he'd never be able to give an accurate measure. All the same, Amy didn't put him down, and after so long with the other critical nations, it was refreshing.

"Okay, we'll come back to that after we do problems four and five," she said. Alfred nodded, listening intently as she explained the fourth equation. She then handed him a pencil. He managed to write a guess, and at that point, instead of yelling at him, she corrected him and had him repeat what she said to make sure he paid attention. She did the same with question five and explained the ones he'd already solved with Bill's help.

"See, easy as pie," Amy said, patting his back. Alfred grinned, glad for the sudden clarity.

"Wow, I actually understood that," he said.

"Yup, I guess we're done here and since you want me to go," she trailed off, getting up. On impulse, he grabbed her hand. She spared him a glance.

"Yes?" she asked. He should let her go. She was practically out the door, but he needed to know, or he'd boil over.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot," Amy said, sitting back down. Alfred picked up the paper plane, spinning the propeller absently

"Where do you see yourself in ten years?"he asked, feeling like a job interviewer. Amy didn't mind. She answered without the slightest hint of hesitation.

"By then, I'll have my own plane, a steady engineering job, and my own place." He put the paper plane down. It didn't seem to clash with what he wanted too badly.

"What kind of place?" Alfred asked.

"An apartment, probably, I plan to travel a lot, no need for a big old house," she said without giving it much more thought. Alfred's face fell. Of course, she didn't want to stick around this time either. He should have expected as much.

"Oh," he mouthed.

"What's with that face?"she asked, tilting his chin up. He shoved her hand away.

"It's stupid," he said, hating how his voice betrayed him.

"Tell me," Amy said, punching his shoulder again. He should probably be complaining about that. It's not like he felt it.

"I was hoping- never mind," he said, picturing a mini Canada yelling at him. It still wasn't a good idea. Why get his hopes up?

"Come on," she said, shaking him or trying to. Eventually, Amy gave up and wrapped her arms around him.

"Please," she said, looking up at him. Alfred took a deep breath, depressurizing. If she really wanted to know, he would tell her.

"For a long time, I- hold on, I have a call," he said, removing her hold on him and going to his room.

"What are you doing? I thought you were going to break it off," Canada said. Was this going to happen every time he hung out with Amy?

"Matthew, how did you know? Did Kiku install cameras in my apartment again? I told him that wasn't cool," he said, checking for hidden cameras in his room. He really thought Kiku had kicked the habit.

"No and he did what? Forget it. Tony told me that you were about to hook up with Amelia's reincarnation. What are you a gold fish with a three-second attention span? We talked about this," Matthew said. Alfred hit his head on the wall. With how he was feeling lately, he didn't find the accusation offensive. Yes, he wanted to be with her. No, he would just repeat the same mistakes. Oh, a Marilyn! You helped me with my homework! I love you. Let's move in the suburbs and live in the 1950's! He sighed. Matthew meant well, but he didn't appreciate being yelled at. So, he wanted to know if she would ever consider it. This didn't mean that he wasn't aware of the potential consequences.

"She helped me with my homework. That's all," Alfred said, feigning innocence.

"So, you weren't about to ask her to move to the suburbs in the not to distant future?" Canada asked. Alfred became even more paranoid. He opened the door to his room a crack, looking for a Canadian hiding in one of his giant potted plants.

"I swear if your pulling some psychic Canadian deal," he said when he found no traces of Canada anywhere. Matthew sighed in exasperation.

"Tony has been spying on you. I heard the whole thing," Canada said. Alfred narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip on the phone.

"Tony!" he shouted. They would be having the lecture about privacy again.

"America focus. You can't do this or terrible things will happen, think of your track record," Canada reminded him. Alfred sighed. Yes, he was well aware.

"Fine, I'll change the subject," he said, hanging up and returning to the living room. From the looks of it, Amy was bored. She laid on the couch, holding up the plane she had given him. When she noticed him, Amy perked up and sat up straight.

"So, you were saying?"she urged, and it only took a second for Alfred to make up his mind. He had to do this, or else, he wouldn't have any peace of mind.

"A long time ago, I decided I wanted a house with a white picket fence and someone to share it with, but it looks like you're flying the coop as soon as you can," Alfred said, steeling himself for her response. He saw three possible outcomes. She would freak out and run, pass it off as a joke and deny he was serious, or flat out, reject him. Amy's eyes widened, putting the paper plane down.

"What?" she asked, completely dumbfounded. Bad idea, that wasn't the face of someone who wanted to move to the suburbs, she was definitely going to bolt. Confusion was the gateway to anxiety. In a matter of moments, she would take her things and storm off. Alfred was about to do damage control when his phone rang again.

"Hold on" Alfred said, returning to his room. Perfectly aware she might not be there when he returned.

"What are you doing? She's twenty. You're going to freak her out," Canada said. In a short amount of time, Matthew had become his moral guardian. He didn't like it. _Are you going to let people tell you what to do? _A question spurred by Tony's accusations. He glanced at the photo album hidden in his closet, the possibilities tantalizing him. He could be in those pictures some day. Maybe, he could even hire a make up artist and fake the aging process. Hollywood did it all the time. Why couldn't he? He took the album out and went to the last page. Amy was waving goodbye to her parents, ready to drive out into the sunset. He reached a verdict. _No, he needed to see this through, or it would always remain unfinished, and America hated leaving things unfinished. _

"Canada, stop meddling,"he said coolly.

"But-" Matt started to say before being cut off by the dial tone. He pocketed the phone and opened the door.

"Amy, you're still here," he said, not expecting to get this far. Amy, if anything, seemed distracted, but otherwise unaffected.

"Why wouldn't I be?"she asked, tearing her eyes away from the turned off television. Okay, he might have done more damage than he thought. She seemed too distracted and jittery.

"I thought the whole house thing might have scared you off," Alfred said, leaning against the frame of his bedroom door, wanting to give her some space. If he got too close, she might freak out further. Since he might a well have sung, hey I just met you and this is crazy, but here's the suburbs, so move in maybe? Amy stretched, and smiled up at him.

"It's cute," she said. Alfred blushed, diverting his gaze. "Cute," was not exactly a quality he strived for.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yeah, but I've known you for about eight hours, slow down Al," Amy said, tone light as she moved her hands up and down slowly for emphasis.

"About the house thing, I wasn't trying to put any pressure on you," he said. Amy shook her head, rummaging through her bag.

"Don't worry about it, but now, you have to watch this. It kind of reminds me of you," she said, opening her lap top and turning it on. Curiosity piqued, he sat down next to her. She opened a web page and selected Netflix from her shortcuts. After logging in, she started to summarize the show, turns out the title was self explanatory

"Okay, so, it's about a guy named Ted and how he met his wife?" he said, not registering some of the more convoluted parts.

"Yes, get ready for an uber marathon," she said. He nodded, vaguely remembering coming across it sometime before. Way too many things competed for his attention for him to keep track of every running plot line on tv. He played along and gave the show a chance, since she seemed to genuinely want him to see the show. They watched the entire first season.

"So what do you think?" she asked, and Alfred gave it careful consideration. The show had made him laugh multiple times, and he didn't find the laugh track as grating because of that.

"I like it. The story doesn't seem to go anywhere and is slow to get to the point like congress," he said smartly, making Amy cross.

"Haha,"she said, dead panned. Alfred should have known better than to mess with Amy and her stories, but he was just teasing her.

"Oh, lighten up, I don't care what we do so long as I get to spend time with you," he said as she put away her laptop.

"And a few hours ago, you didn't want to see me anymore. You're certainly a master of mixed signals, Al" she said, pouting. He had a strong desire to grab her by the waist and pick her up to mess with her further. He poked her with a pencil instead- sweet vengeance.

"That was before I found out you could do math. Now, you're indispensable," he said, ruffling her hair. Amy rolled her eyes.

"I feel so loved," she said. He settled for putting one arm around her.

"You will," he whispered into her ear. She squirmed.

"Um . . . It's getting late. I should go,"Amy said shyly, losing some of her usual cheeriness.

" I'll walk you home" he offered although he would whether she wanted him to or not. Nothing was going to happen to her on his watch.

"All right,"she said, spurring on ahead of him. Alfred didn't make much effort to catch up as they walked, focusing on his surrounding in case there were signs of trouble. So long as she was in sight, he didn't have to be right next to her. She would often double back and ask him to hurry up. He wouldn't. She gave up and started trying to get him to open up. Try being the key word, he hadn' t realized how uptight he was about certain things. He wouldn't talk about his family, work for obvious reasons, and anything about his past was heavily censored. They reached her apartment, and she lingered at the doorway. He waited.

"I have to ask Al. Why me?" she said, sounding uncertain.

"Why not?" he answer back playfully.

"Not what I was looking for," she grumbled.

"It's hard to explain, but do you think there is room for a guy in that plan of yours?" he asked on a whim. Amelia had never given him the option. Alfred figured that it was as good an adventure as any.

"If he doesn't get in my way, maybe," she answered slyly. He grinned, very carefully punching her in the shoulder. Amy punched him back. Then, she gave him a quick hug before retreating inside.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said to himself as the door clicked shut. He returned home, feeling unfamiliar fatigue. The phone rang, and he answered it begrudgingly. He already knew who was on the other line.

"Yes Matthew? Oh, you want to know what happened. Nothing much, she just shot me down, and we watched tv," he said, tactfully avoiding any mention of their last exchange.

"Thank goodness," Canada said, sighing in relief.

"You don't have to sound so relieved,"Alfred said, getting tired of Canada's nay saying. However justified, it might be.

"Alfred, if she had said yes and meant it, I don't think you'd come back to us for a really long time, "Canada said, barely audible and pausing frequently. America hadn't realized that Canada was worried about that. Considering how often they saw each other, he could see how it would create a void.

"I'd still visit," America said. At least Canada, it wasn't too far or expensive to get to.

"You know what I mean," Canada mumbled. America understood, but he wasn't going to say he wouldn't ever leave. He picked up the plane again, remembering when he used to sit on the wings of Amelia's plane. He missed doing that. He spun the propeller again.

"Well, don't worry, I have a new dream. The old one was a little dated, " he said, and it didn't help that he was attracted to strong-willed individuals, so living in the suburbs turned into an automatic no no. Apparently, it sounded fairly chauvinistic, not that he ever said he expected them to stay home all day.

"America, I don't like where you're going with this," Canada said, returning to his usual pitch. Alfred put the plane down. So, Matthew knew, but he expected as much. It's what America has been saying all along. Canada had simply misunderstood that he planned to keep living like this indefinitely.

"I want to make decisions by myself, free of everyone else's influence. Being on my own for the last few days made me realize that as long as I'm America, that won't happen," Alfred said, because Tony had a point. He had second guessed himself. And even before that, the entire intervention, France's call, and even, the bake sale, all were meant to influence him in some way. So long as he kept thinking himself as America, he wasn't going to be able to escape.

"Don't do this. We both know what you're feeling isn't going to last. You're just taking a break," Matthew pleaded, reminding him of England's words,_ you'll get bored, eventually_. It struck a nerve. He wasn't going to quit.

"Matt, I'm not going back. No matter what happens, I'm Alfred now, even if I have to relearn the alphabet" he said, reaffirming his resolve. Was he so fickle? No way, he was better than that. Alfred had plenty to look forward too, even if it was something as simple as going to Bio tomorrow.

"What are you talking about? You can't do this Amer-" Alfred hung up on him, turning off the phone completely. He was ready to turn in.


	8. But You Are America

But You Are America

Canada always prided himself as the responsible, reasonable brother. And yet . . . he compulsively checked his phone again, no messages- not one. Shunned, there could be no other reason why America had not answered his calls- all thirty of them. A direct confrontation clearly wasn't going to work. So, Matthew had done something impulsive

"Now, pray tell, why did you have us all come in for an emergency meeting?" England asked, interrupting his silent fiddling with the phone. He stuffed the phone back in his pocket. There wasn't any harm checking again in a few minutes. He wasn't crazy or unreasonable. _Alfred, answer the phone, damn it. _Canada bit his lip. This was stupid. Did America really want to disown him?

" America may have cut off ties with all of us because of me," Canada admitted. They were all sitting down in the hotel lobby since they no longer had access to the meeting room. No one looked particularly thrilled to be there, but as soon as he made the announcement, they refocused their attention on the new hot topic. There was a lot of quiet muttering and frowns. In fact, the only one smiling to no one's surprise was Russia. He took out his own phone, one that by now most would consider a relic, and started dialing.

"Oh really? Russia will check theory," he said. Canada absently wondered when exactly America had relinquished that particular piece of info. No way, he had given him his number right after the Berlin wall went down. For all he knew, America might have given it to him this week. Canada tightened his grip on the phone. He sure could hold a grudge.

"Hello Alfred, would you mind if I came over for dinner tonight?" Russia said. Canada's jaw dropped. America had answered Russia's call, the one he couldn't stand long enough to invite to Christmas parties, not even for extra presents. (Then again, Russia's presents tended not to be pleasant.) Somehow, this nation, who America used to consider no better than the devil, was on speaking terms with Alfred, and he was not. America wouldn't even leave him a measly text.

" Wonderful," Russia said, ending the call and turning to Canada with the same blasted smile he always had.

"How did you-? But he won't even take my calls, and he used to freaking hate you," Matthew blurted out.

"You are not playing game correctly," Russia said with a shrug, pocketing the phone. His tone was self assured as if he'd done this many times before. Had he? Canada liked to think not. Short of the last few days, the two always treated each other with thinly veiled hostility.

"This isn't a game," he said, and Russia's face seemed to darken despite the bright lights in the lobby. A woman hurried passed them and repeatedly pushed the button to get in the elevator at the sight, rushing in when it opened, nearly forgetting her child in the process. Matthew did not think Ivan noticed.

"Comrade, you clearly have not played American game before. You must pretend. Canada does not seem to be good at pretending," Ivan said, drinking the lobby coffee, downing in like a shot of vodka. Wouldn't it scorch his tongue? Canada drank from his own cup, lukewarm, figures.

"But, how did you get invited to dinner? You - I mean, why did I get the cold shoulder all of a sudden?" Canada shouted. He blinked in surprise, realizing he sounded kind of jealous. Cheeks flushed, he looked away, rubbing his neck. He didn't care all that much. Russia remained calm, if stiff on the lobby chair, sporting the same toneless smile.

"I treated Alfred like human being. You have been treating him like foolish older brother, America no? "Ivan said, pouring more coffee into the paper cup.

"Yeah, but he can't just expect us to start-" Matthew said, some of his pent up frustration showing. England interrupted, curiously out of place without a paper cup full of coffee.

"Russia has a point. Alfred has never been a rationale creature. Perhaps, you're overreacting " England said, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and index finger, obviously thinking America had simply thrown another temper tantrum, and Canada had just come crying like the old days.

"No, he said that he didn't want anything to do with other nations," Canada said, trying to emphasize how big a deal this was. The last two times he had avoided them all had been temporary, a defense mechanism, because he needed time to recover, and deep down, he didn't trust any of them all that much. But, this time was different. America sounded so certain, and he always loved people so much. Canada had no doubt he would continue this love affair without intervention, and what would happen if it wasn't snuffed out immediately like the last two? Next time he saw him, decades from now, would he be a blubbering mess? It didn't seem fair. Why did he never learn?

"Exactly, does Canada not see giant loophole?" Russia said, unperturbed by Canada's statement. Concentrating, he furrowed his eyebrows. Loophole? They couldn't all give up like he did. France put an arm around his shoulder.

"Mon ami, he would not turn away family if we acted as such, I think," France said, agreeing with Russia although he seemed uncomfortable admitting it.

They had a point. When they first visited, America had treated them like family and never once, referred to them as countries. He had slipped up since then, repeatedly referring to him as Canada as he should. This had given him hope that he was feeling better and would return soon. Until, he realized what America was up to and attempted to stop him. Canada just didn't want his brother catatonic again. By now, America had learned to deal with most things, but in many ways, he was very fragile. One snowy day, he had found his teenage brother at his doorstep holding up a stiff rabbit. First and foremost, he remembered his surprise at seeing his brother's face so soon. It hadn't been very long after the war. Canada hadn't known what to do. He didn't think he'd be holding a dead rabbit if he was invading again. And yet, the way he held the creature, it wasn't a meal to him, and on closer inspection, the rabbit was huge and plump, clearly overfed with many treats. Why do they always die? I take care of them. I swear I didn't do anything wrong. Why Canada? Canada didn't know the answer. Instead, he had patted his brothers back and helped him bury the creature in his backyard.

"I guess if no one cares he's seriously planning to move to the suburbs with a girl he barely knows, we can adjourn and get ready to head back home, " Canada said, planting the seeds of panic. They were all aware of America's love affairs. If not all the details, then, generally, how he quickly stopped being a happy camper when they ended. No one wanted that if they could help it so maybe, they would believe him now. China spoke up first.

"Aiyah, do you mean the girl he has been stalking? That can't be good. I thought Japan was lying about that post." Japan shoot him a look.

"My posts are a hundred percent credible," he claimed. China snorted, skepticism evident.

"You claimed America died three times last year in three separate posts." he said, and Japan shook his head.

"He ate forty pounds of cake. How was I supposed to know he was taking a nap afterward?" Japan asked, lowering his tone when he noticed Canada watching him. He turned around to let them silently argue. Greece meanwhile tilted his head heavenward and asked.

"Was it the one who bought our leftover desserts when she found out the money was going to feed kittens? I liked her." Greece said, looking sleepy eyed and yawning. Then again, he always looked half asleep to Canada. England rolled his eyes, elbow propped on armrest while his hand supported his head, overall a bored irritated old man who wanted his blasted tea already.

"You would, but no, that would be Christiana or Angelina or some other unimportant neighbor," he said, dismissing the idea with a wave. Greece's question did have some validity. No one had actually seen the girl yet. Could he be pulling a Russia and deluding himself into thinking some regular college girl was Amelia? Well, his brother could be very delusional when he wanted to be.

"Oh, too bad, but does it really matter if America settles down? A few of you have done it at some point and I think France said that England had an affair with Eliz-" Greece started to say, before England clamped his mouth shut. Arthur glared at him, making Heracles's eyes open wide, a rare sight though not as spectacular or shocking as when Italy opened them.

"Not another word, everything France told you was a lie," he hissed, and Greece nodded while France disagreed behind him, making smooch noises with a smirk. Luckily, England didn't catch that. Canada knew they wouldn't get anywhere if they started a fight and was grateful for the oversight. Also, he didn't even want to think about England doing _that_ and not with_ her_. He'd never be able to look her cousin in the face again.

"Of course, it matters if America stops participating for however long this woman lives, " Germany barked, and he was clearly thinking of all the meetings he'd have to organize himself with no end in sight, the poor guy. Maybe, he could help, provided they didn't all start treating him like he was invisible again.

"Do not worry. He would have to get the girl first, and remember, he was raised by Angleterre," France said, and Canada started feeling better about calling this meeting last minute. Another excellent point, there wasn't anything to worry about. England, completely hopeless, America . . . three annexed girls, many foreign flings, a couple of star-crossed romances with a human, and that wasn't counting anything he didn't know about. Canada frowned, that pesky little detail adding to his paranoia. His brother claimed she was definitely interested and their feelings were mutual. If only he could gauge how true that statement was, his brother tended to exaggerate.

" His track record is pretty bad," he said, reaffirming his assumptions. If he went with the cold hard facts, he had talked to her twice and had been shot down once. No wedding around the corner yet.

"Apparently, it has been getting better," France said, flicking away a stray tear dramatically. Canada figured France was having a proud mentor moment. Until Francis started weeping openly into Canada's shoulder, he gaped at the unexpected display of emotion. France's confidence wasn't easy to shake. What did he know that Canada didn't?

"What are you so down about frog?" England asked, taking out a hankey. France grabbed the hankey and blew. Arthur grimaced, obliviously annoyed by Francis blubbering. Still, Canada liked to think they did care about each other, even if they normally didn't act like it. Once, Francis had a chance to calm down, he looked at each of them forlornly.

"He has kissed Lisa," France said, draping his arm over his head dramatically.

"See, he's not even serious about Amelia's reincarnation. Apparently, he'll take any historic figure that will have him," England said, trying hard not to laugh. He didn't hide the smirk. France was about to snap at him when Canada interrupted the two of them. He had a gut feeling that what Alfred told France was a flat out lie.

"But, he didn't seem that interested in Lisa. I think they only met once. She walked him to class," Canada said, relaying what he knew. He didn't like seeing France upset. Joan tended to be a touchy subject, only the discovery of her doppelganger had eased his guilt.

"Are you sure?" France said, sounding skeptical and hopeful at the same time. So, he couldn't confirm it, but the alien would have brought it up in their last conversation if he had. He was sure Tony knew more about Alfred than any of them at this point.

"He hasn't mentioned it, and believe me, he has been talking non stop about Amy," Canada said, deciding France could determine whether it was a lie or not with what he told him. France frowned, removing some loose strands from his face.

"Then, why would he tell me he did?" he asked, and Canada opened and closed his mouth, before ultimately shaking his head. His brother's brain was a mystery.

"Maybe, he wanted to shut you up," England cut in. Great, so much, for focusing on keeping America from making a horrible mistake, Canada would be too busy pulling them apart. Luckily, France didn't take the bait.

"It would seem so, but I was only trying to help him with l'amour," France said, stroking his chin.

"It gets old," England muttered, wrinkling his nose at the coffeepot. Canada thought about finding him a cup of tea somewhere, but he probably had some packets in his hotel room that he could use to make his own tea later.

"Only because you never received the full benefits of my lessons," France said, his confident flair returning. England spluttered before managing a comeback.

"Rubbish," he scoffed. Not his best comeback but France still hmphed and likely would have made a rebuttal, if Russia had not patted both roughly on the back, successfully ending the squabble.

"If you two are done with the nonsensical babbling, Russia believes that we can lure America back with another girl," he said. Canada nearly spit out his coffee, no, no, no, that is not what he had in mind.

"I take it back France. That was rubbish, what you said was just stupid," England said, and Canada had hope that Russia's suggestion would fall to the wayside. France, however, smirked. Great, this sort of thing was right up France's alley.

" I agree, an old flame perhaps?" France said, releasing the floodgates.

"I vote Vietnam. They definitely still have unresolved feelings, " China said, his suggestion met with silence. Canada sighed in relief. At least, they all realized that was an idiotic idea. Japan put away his phone and followed reluctantly when China elbowed him. Oh Japan, don't get sucked in by the peer pressure, he begged silently.

"He does seem to like Taiwan, but China only lets her visit so often." China immediately scowled at him. Canada slapped his forehead, so much for Japan being the voice of reason.

"Why would you even bring that up?" Yao asked. Japan didn't answer, sipping a cup a tea. England stared in disbelief which quickly changed to anger that the tea would dare mock his tea-less-ness.

"Relax, China, it was only suggestion. She's too kid-like to get his attention anyway," Russia said, probably only somewhat aware of America's less serious side. France gaped at him.

"Do you even know America?" he asked. Before Russia could respond, England rolled his eyes and interrupted.

"We don't need anyone encouraging his childish behavior. If we're going to pick anyone, I vote Israel. He's been dancing around the idea for a while now." Germany finally spoke, sounding very alarmed.

"I don't think so. He's too involved in the middle east as it is." Canada felt a panic attack coming. England was on board, and no one was openly rejecting the idea although both Greece and Italy stayed quiet. So, Canada would have to act quickly and be the voice of reason in Japan and Germany's stead.

"France, do you really think this is fair to America? I would think you of all people would be against interfering with another's romance, " Canada said, and France shook his head.

"Oh Matthew, this is clearly a passing fling. Why else would he keep us out of the loop?" France reasoned. Canada bit his lip and kept himself from saying, because you're all crazy and trying to sabotage him as we speak.

"Still, are you all seriously going to manipulate him into coming back?" Canada said, directing the question to the whole group, hoping accusing them out right would make them back off. Instead, most of the nations kept quiet, and to his surprise, England laughed.

"And what exactly did you think you were doing, Canada?" he asked, having mysteriously produced tea from somewhere. Japan probably shared.

"Being supportive, till he came to his senses," he said, not thinking what he did was nearly on the same level as what they all were doing now. He didn't mind America taking some time off, what bothered him was the potential consequences of his brother integrating this girl into his life. They all were treating his absence as a problem that needed to be fixed. All he wanted was this girl out of the picture so he could spare his brother some pain in the long run.

"Someone fell off their high horse. You can't even follow you own advice," England said, gesturing to everyone Canada had called. Canada couldn't come up with a decent excuse. He had invited chaos into the situation.

"What about Belarus?" Russia said, and again, there was a deathly quiet. Belarus who had come but not participated in the meeting looked up from her book, shocked.

"Why me, big brother?" she asked, at the moment not lashing out in anger at the idea. Admittedly, Canada didn't mind Belarus. She and his brother had gotten along remarkably well during her short stay, but he also didn't want the group taking advantage of their past amicable relations.

"When America was drunk, he mentioned you two had a fling and that you did not so innocent things in Russia's absence," he said. His naturally low voice did nothing to soften the blow. She looked down and started to stutter, before Russia cut her off.

"I socked him in the face for you, of course, but maybe, you could string him along for about a month until he forgets this Amy girl?" Russia asked. Before Belarus could recover, England jerked his head up and interrupted them.

"Wait, America can get drunk?" Canada stared at him incredulously. How had he never noticed?

"You clearly cannot hold you liquor. Yes, and he spills his guts every time," Russia said smugly. Apparently, Canada wasn't the only one who took advantage of that particular weakness from time to time. Actually, knowing Russia knew had him a little worried, he, at least, tried not to pry too much. Most of the time, he asked simple things like where the hell he had hidden his hockey stick. Usually, it was someplace obscure like behind the counter of a Starbucks in Minnesota.

"Then, why does he still drink with you?" England asked. Canada tried not to laugh. The same reason England still drank with America probably. He likely didn't remember didly squat afterwards.

"Russia never tells anyone what he hears, until now, but that unimportant. So what do you say Belarus?" he asked, and Belarus sighed.

"Is he happy?" she asked, and everyone looked at Canada. He swore he could feel himself turn invisible, but he fought the sensation and nodded. For now, anyway, the minute something went wrong, he would go off the deep end.

"Then no, if it was anything else, I would for you brother, but I can't do this," she said, her usual severity cut away by a delicate frown. Russia nodded and let her return to her reading.

"Very well, what about you Ukraine? Are you over your crush on Canada?" he asked. Canada turned bright red.

"What?" he squeaked. Ukraine stepped in front of her brother and waved her arms frantically.

"Nothing, nothing, little brother kids," she said, forcefully hitting her brother's arm. Russia took the hint. Canada tried not to think about what he had heard. Ukraine wasn't the reason he was here.

"Oh, never mind then, let's see, that leaves his ex Texas, but I don't think anyone wants that going on again," he said, and England was quick to disagree.

"I don't know. She wasn't so bad." France inspected his nails, and spared him a glance.

"Angleterre, would you care to share why? Or else, we're all going to assume something went on in the 1800's that shouldn't have," he said, and thankfully, that particular topic wasn't explored at length. Canada honestly did not want to know.

" Italy has something to say," Germany shouted. Everyone turned their attention to Italy, used to Germany playing mediator.

"Thank you, Ludwig," Italy said. Canada felt a little guilty. Had Italy wanted to speak this entire time? And what about Greece?

"Italy thinks we should leave him alone. Life is hard when you lose someone important," he said, and France looked uncomfortable for some reason before switching to a smile. He patted Italy's head.

"You're right, it is too sleazy to lure him back with a girl. So, we need England to be a bastard again," France said, pointing at England. Italy's face fell.

"But that's not what Italy said," he mumbled.

"Hold on a moment, who says I'm going to do anything? Much less be a "bastard" as you put it, I think going through all this is having a positive affect on him, and if he wants to play house with this girl that is his business," he said. Canada frowned. Hadn't he suggested setting America up with Israel a few minutes ago? Apparently, England had come around, kind of. He never could just feel one way about something could he?

"Who are you, and what have you done to England?" France said, completely exasperated.

"I'm serious," he said, and France started poking his shoulder.

"Come on, be a bastard and crush his soul," France complained. England ignored France poking him.

"No," he said, taking another sip of his tea.

"Apparently you can do so without even trying," Germany said, and England's eyebrow twitched.

"I certainly did not crush his soul. America did all of this of his own free will. That was the point." he said, glaring at Germany and putting the tea down.

"The fool always rushes into these things," he continued, less angry and more resigned now. The statement said more than Arthur probably meant it to.

"Perhaps, you could-" Germany tried again.

"He doesn't listen, at least, not when I actually want him to," England said, frustration seeping through his careful demeanor.

"Remember when all of you used to complain that he was too slow to act? And he should try to get more involved?" Italy said, and all eyes were on him.

"Italy is just pointing out the hypocrisy," he said, as per usual, no amount of persuading would get him to even touch the mediocre batch of coffee. So, instead, he had his hands clasped together on his lap, waiting patiently to find an acceptable substitute elsewhere.

"There is a difference between ignoring a crisis that effects us all, and stupidly, trusting the first girl with blue eyes and red hair he sees, " he stopped, likely feeling the temperature of the room drop. Canada was more bothered by where the frosty look was coming from. England cleared his throat and finally looked Russia in the eye.

"Not that there is anything wrong with that," he amended. All conversation ended, and for a minute, no one dared speak.

"I'm think this is too meddlesome of us. England and Italy are right we should leave him alone," Japan said, and China groaned.

"Japan, it's always a pain when a nation does this," China complained.

"So, after all these meetings, we have not learned to tolerate each other? Sad, all of you want to do what is convenient for you instead of appreciating that Alfred is trying," Greece said, and all attention turned to Heracles.

"Did that come out of Greece's mouth?" China said, obviously judging Greece by his budgeting skills more than anything else. Canada wasn't surprised. Heracles had the mind of a philosopher, even if he rarely showed proof of it. He figured Heracles spent most of that time thinking in the first place.

"Why would it be bad for America to care about someone? Think about what this really means, he hadn't been paying attention or going to meetings much before this, and now, he helped with the bake sale and is opening up to us- all of us," he said, for a moment, fixing his gaze on Russia to further emphasizes his point.

"You're right, Russia always gets carried away with the plotting. I'm out," he said, holding up his hands in surrender, just as easily as he had suggested the idea in the first place.

"Eh, I guess I'll have to deal," Canada said, knowing Alfred wasn't too involved with this girl yet. He should try and give his brother a chance to handle the situation. He couldn't imagine how Alfred might be dealing with their past unresolved issues, or what seemed far more likely, he hadn't even considered them before welcoming her with open arms.

"Ce la vie, Amerique can enjoy himself if he wants," France said with a shrug. Canada doubted his previous plotting had anything to do with getting America back. He liked setting people up way too much for that.

"Bah, I don't care, listening to all those farfetched proposals was a pain, anyway," China huffed.

"Yay, Greece, you kept people from crushing America's chance at happiness. I forgive you for letting your kittens torture my pigeon," Italy said, giving Greece a hug.

"They were only playing. He could have flown away if he wanted too," he said, and again, Italy took the pigeon out of his jacket's pocket. Canada had a feeling that Rovino had been promoted to pet status since the last few times he saw them together.

"I don't understand. Ever since I started feeding him leftover tomatoes, he hasn't been as feisty," Italy said with a frown, poking the pigeon who didn't bother flapping his wings. Canada could hear Germany mutter in the background that "it's just like you."

"So again, everything fizzles out before anything gets done. I still do not agree with his choice, but I suppose he has been participating more lately," Germany admitted, and Canada guessed that was a good enough reason to leave him alone in Ludwig's mind.

"Alright, I think we all agree it's time for all of you to go," Canada announced, looking at his watch. He wouldn't want them missing their flights.

"Yes, it's time" Japan said, first to leave and gather his things. China didn't say a word and followed Japan out. He didn't blame him for being sick of meetings.

"Hmmm, oh, yes," England said distractedly, getting up to catch the elevator.

"Oui, enough gossip as strange as it sounds,"France said, fixing his hair again before heading to the elevator too.

"Might as well,"Germany said, sounding rather depressed by the meetings result. Italy patted his back as best he could.

"Don't be too upset, I'll make us some pasta before the flight," Italy said, rewarded with a small smile from Germany.

"See all of you later," Canada said, waving. He would drive back on his own when he was ready. Besides, he would make sure he was on speaking terms with his brother before he left.

"Goodbye everyone," Russia said, waving to the retreating group.

"Russia aren't you going?" Canada asked

"I have dinner plans tonight," Russia said. Oh, Canada didn't think he'd follow through with that.

"Be back soon big brother, Ukraine and I will be waiting for you," Belarus said, giving her brother a hug.

"Try to do more than sit around and wait Belarus, I won't be back till tomorrow," Russia said, and the smile seemed more genuine, or maybe, Canada had been staring at it too long. Either way, she nodded and smiled herself. Ukraine also hugged him.

"Have a good dinner brother, try not to fight with America," she said, and Russia nodded.

"It won't be problem. Alfred is much easier to deal with," he said, and Canada frowned, pondering Russia treating Alfred as a separate entity. Canada had never thought of him that way, and he started to wonder if what he said was really true. Matthew decided he would find out tomorrow. Today, there was some hot cocoa waiting for him in his room.

"Hey Ivan, come on in, I ordered pizza," Alfred said, holding up the box. He wasn't really sure what to expect. Sure, Alfred had made a conscious effort to be nice to him, but surprisingly, this wasn't as hard as he anticipated. They were getting along and that made him more nervous than anything. This was completely new territory.

"Hello Alfred, I see you have been decorating," Ivan said, stepping inside and for now, ignoring the pizza. Alfred put the box down and decided to go with the flow.

"My friend kept complaining it was a little bare so I spruced it up," he said, hands in pockets, the way his index finger twitched and curled up when he was nervous would be a dead give away that there was more to it than that. Tony had found Alfred staring at the ceiling trying to relocate his umph when he stopped by. Naturally, Tony dragged him outside. From there, it didn't take much for him to make some impulse buys. Ivan nodded, picking up a toy car. Okay, so, he may have also bought some toys to go with his wacky paint choices. What was two or three elaborate race tracks and hotwheels? Okay, and maybe, the eagle kite hanging from the ceiling was a little much, but it was on sale. And all the Legos? What did Tony expect? There was bound to be something he liked in the Lego's section. And, his purchases had kind of accumulated from there.

"I see, it is very American in it's childlike wonder" Ivan said, letting the car race down the spiral track.

"Thanks, I guess," Alfred said, sitting down on the sofa. Ivan joined him, and there was an uncomfortable silence. He thought about opening the box and taking the first slice of pizza, but Ivan didn't seem too interested in eating for someone who had invited himself to dinner. Maybe, dinner had been more of a pretense? Alfred had pulled that trick once or twice.

"So, is there a reason you stopped by?" he asked. Ivan spared him a glance, preoccupied setting up the dominos. What? It was only a few packs.

"Yes and no," Ivan said. Alfred frowned, not liking the ambiguous response. He clearly hadn't come to mooch food off of him, and they weren't _that_ close.

"Mind elaborating a little?"he asked.

"Matthew believes you have disowned us. I was simply demonstrating that wasn't the case. Besides that, I wonder about new girl," Ivan said. Alfred tensed when Russia mentioned his sudden interest in Amy, most of the others were indifferent or way too involved. He wasn't sure what category to put him under. He settled for mildly interested and relaxed his body. He would give him the benefit of the doubt. This wasn't a spy movie.

"Yeah, Matt's being annoying. And Amy? I don't know. I feel conflicted," Alfred said, not sure why he wanted to confide in him all of a sudden. It felt natural, like he'd done so before. Then again, maybe, he was unraveling if he thought Ivan could keep a secret.

"Russia would like to tell story if that okay?" he asked, and Alfred frowned. He'd switched back to Russia and that made him weary. Time to tell America, he was in over his head again. Here, wack him with a bat and candy will come out that should snap him out it, stupid England and Hong Kong. It didn't help that actual candy had come out when Leo hit him. He'd been very careful not to keep any on him after that, especially when Hong Kong started carrying a bat.

"You're going to lecture me too?" America asked, not hiding the sour look on his face. He wasn't the oldest, but he wasn't the youngest either. So, why did his younger brother have to make such good points? Bah, Russia would probably make him bawl his eyes out the way things were going.

"No, Russia gives advice. I'm sure you remember many years ago that I went through something similar," Russia said, oddly serious without the infamous smile on his face. America wasn't in the mood to listen, despite his curiosity at Russia's melancholy mood.

" No, I'm a self absorbed moron? Haven't you heard?" he drawled, sarcasm evident. Who hadn't heard of Anastasia? The small duchess who had been officially accounted for among the dead, not too long ago. Russia managed to smile a little but not in the usual way. America found the smile strange. He had always thought Russia had one smile whether he wanted to shoot you in back of the head or say hello.

"Many times, but I'm sure you've heard of Anastasia," Russia said, and America smiled in a painfully cheery way. Whatever Russia was getting at, he didn't want to hear it.

"Yup, she's a cartoon," America said, waiting for Russia to try and sock him in the face. He didn't lay a hand on him. Instead, Russia frowned and clasped his hands together, possibly to restrain himself from doing so.

"I wonder why you try to anger me?"he asked, sounding sincerely puzzled. America continued to glare, arms crossed and overall simply saying, leave me alone, with his body language.

"Sorry, I'm sick of being told being with Amelia's reincarnation is a bad idea," America said. Anyway, he looked at the situation. There wasn't anything inherently bad about talking to her, and he hadn't screwed up just yet. He shouldn't fear the past or future. So, he might as well keep moving forward.

"It's not," Russia said. America had trouble processing that. Someone agreed with him, other than Japan (and only when it involved robots. )

"What?" he asked, making sure he heard correctly.

"Deep down, I knew she was dead. I felt it. They all think I didn't realize the woman that came forward was an imposter, but I knew," Russia said, leaning back on the sofa, oddly casual about the confession.

"Then, why didn't you kick her out?" America asked. In this case, he wouldn't blame Russia for leaving her out in the cold. And, he could have easily done just that.

"Ivan is a very lonely person. I didn't mind the company," he said.

"Oh," America said, having trouble coming up with something else to say. The whole conversation delved further into Ivan's psyche than he was really comfortable with. He wasn't supposed to have feelings.

"And, I don't think you care so much if she is Amelia's-" Russia stared to say. America immediately cut him off.

"She is."

"Anyway, I don't think you care so much that she is but that she cares for you. This is all that matters in the end," Russia reasoned. Alfred had to admit that he liked having someone come over that didn't necessarily want anything more than his company for a change. International relations could get vicious from time to time, and he didn't have a knack for it.

"Wow, Ivan, I didn't realize you were such a softie," he said, and the smile he was used to returned. So, the shields were back up, eh?

"I can still crush you into tiny pieces," Russia said, pounding his fist into the palm of his hand. America grinned. This was much easier to deal with.

"You wish," he said, slapping him on the back. He probably didn't feel the slap anymore than he felt Amy punching him on the shoulder. Russia stretched, looking up at the world map above the tv.

"Not really, Russia is enjoying calm before potential battle, and even the warmer weather that everyone complains about," he said, obviously expecting America to berate him for thinking that. Classic Russia, always baiting him with his polar opposite views. He didn't really want to comment on the potential disaster on their hands, more than already had been discussed in the meeting room, neither was going to budge. If one day, he was able to plant his stupid sunflower garden because of the melting ice so be it, and he was sure all the resources hidden underneath the ice would fetch a pretty penny too.

"Ugh, don't even remind me about the middle east or global warming right now," he said, rubbing his aching head. He shouldn't have played video games all night with Tony. If he heard Tony use the excuse, it's the weekend one more time, he was going to have to establish ground rules. No more all night marathons for him.

"You're right, pizza is getting cold," Ivan said. They dug in, and from then on, Alfred and Ivan talked without any mention of Russia or America.

"I'm not letting you in. You can stop waiting outside the door," Alfred said, hovering near the door and checking the peephole occasionally. Harassing him over the phone wasn't enough apparently.

"Please Al, I came to apologize," Matthew said, and Alfred perked up. He hadn't called him that in a while.

"Go on,"Alfred said, and he could see his brother's shoulders slump.

"You're still not letting me in?" he asked, sounding exasperated, like he was the one being bothered. Tcht, not this week at least, this was probably karmic retribution for doing the same to Matthew on multiple occasions.

"Nope," he said. Head down, Matthew started kicking the cement with his foot, not exerting all that much force into the activity. The pavement didn't crack.

"Fine. I shouldn't have tried to pressure you," he said. He wasn't getting off that easy.

"And?" he asked, and Matthew looked directly at the peephole.

"I won't interfere again," Matthew promised. If he hadn't called him a bajillion times already, he would have believed him and let him in.

"And?" Alfred asked, and he could tell by the look on his face that he hadn't expected to be denied entry after that.

"You can call me Canadia if you really want to but not in front of anyone else," he said, not thrilled but sincere, and Alfred decided that was good enough.

"Okay then," he said, opening the door. Matthew came inside and noticed the new paint job and plethora of new knickknacks. The place looked like a fourth of July celebration waiting to happen.

"You've been busy," Matthew said, and it wasn't a compliment. He had a feeling this was going to come up every time he let someone into his apartment.

"Yup," he said, closing the door behind him. This time, he double checked to make sure he locked it - done.

"Do you always have to go with red white and blue?" Matthew asked, and Alfred put an arm around his shoulders.

"Do you always have to have maple leafs all over the place? Is Arthur too obsessed with Roses, Unicorns, and Lions? Must Francis have fleurs-de-lil everywhere?" he started to rant, and Matthew held his hands up and cut him off before he listed the whole of the united nations.

"Okay, okay, I get the point. It's very you," he said, and he looked around. These were his favorite colors. If he wasn't a country, would they be? Or would it even matter, because he wouldn't even be the same person, or did he even count as that? It's no like they included him in the census or anything.

"Or is it?" he said, maybe, he should repaint every other week, just to make sure these were his favorite colors.

"What do you want me to say? Matthew asked, more frustrated than he ought to be. By now, he should know he used him as a sounding board sometimes, or maybe, that was what he was frustrated about.

"Nothing, I've been questioning a lot of things lately," Alfred said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He wouldn't know what to do with them otherwise.

"How are things?" Matthew asked, and Alfred held up a hand and started counting off what happened this week. He tended to abridge when he didn't really want to talk about it.

"Phone off, Homework finished, Room decorated, Ivan human, and you here," Alfred said, and Matthew nodded. He supposed he should get the big questions out of the way.

"Do you feel any different?" Matthew asked. Alfred shook his head.

"Not since the initial, I'm free high, and no, not like that, Matt," he said. Matthew smirked, of course not. He was going for a philosophical resolution. It made sense that the initial excitement would wane, the actual event rarely lived up to the fantasy.

"Maybe, it's a sign that you don't need to do this. What couldn't you do at home that you could do here?" Matthew said. Alfred took out his phone and pressed speed dial. He then handed it back to him. What did he want him to do?

"That is Candi from next store. She has never met you and does not know anything about you. Say anything you want," he said, and Canada was overcome with a sudden stage fright. What did this have to do with anything?

"Hey, this is Alfred's brother, Matthew. He wanted me to say hi. No, I don't know if he wants to go out tonight. Okay, I'll ask him," Matthew said. Alfred shook his head.

"He said that he had some things he needed to take care of. Would I like to go? Oh, um . . . no, my brother and I need to catch up,"he said, quickly, marveling how fast the lies were forming.

"Okay, I'll tell him, goodbye," he said, relieved to have that over and done with. Why have him talk to some random girl?

"She said to call her next time you're bored and she'll make cookies," Matthew said, and Alfred nodded, likely on half listening to what he was saying. Matthew handed him the phone, and Alfred put it away.

"So, you're gut instinct is to call me your brother," Alfred said, and Matthew hadn't thought of it that way. They always went with that line.

" No, I mean . . . we look alike. What else am I supposed to say?" he asked, and Alfred crossed his arms.

"She's never seen you. How would she know?" he asked, and Matthew hadn't even considered that. She would have met him eventually. What was the point of saying something else?

"I guess she wouldn't have, but she would have put two and two together, if we ever met," Matthew reasoned.

"I never planned to introduce you two," he said, and Matthew scowled.

"What are you getting at?" he asked.

"I can't try anything different at home because there are certain things expected of me. Yes, I can do what I want, but I will fall into the same old pattern. The same way that you will always call yourself Matthew and say you're my brother, whether you're talking to a stranger or not, "Alfred said. He did have a point, but that didn't change the fact Alfred wasn't feeling any different.

"I understand, but you aren't getting anywhere staying here either. Maybe, you can't change. Can you accept that?" he asked, and he managed to put Alfred in a dark mood.

"I've been a little sidetracked," he muttered. Oh, and now, to deal with the elephant in the room, he cleared his throat.

"Did you want to come here so you could date? That's the only difference I've seen," he said. Alfred's cheeks flushed.

"No, I haven't been feeling well, thank you very much. Amy was sort of a surprise," he said, on the defensive. Canada heard the door open. That's funny. He could have sworn he saw his brother lock it.

"Oh my god, there's two of you," the girl shouted, hands over her mouth. Canada looked her over. He saw the resemblance, but he still wasn't sure. America immediately got up and tried to push her out the door. Weird, he didn't see what the big deal was. So, he was here? It's not like it would cause problems.

"No there isn't," he insisted, and Canada laughed. Did he not tell her he had a twin?

"She saw me, just let her in," he said, too late to hide himself now.

"Yeah Al, do you have to act like I'm a burglar? Maybe, you should stop leaving your door open if you don't want me around," the girl (Amy?) said, sticking out her tongue.

"How did she open the door? I just saw you lock it," he asked. Wrong thing to say, Alfred ran his finger through his hair and let out an exasperated sigh.

"I don't know," he said, before narrowing his eyes and whispering Tony.

"I'll be right back," he said, walking into the guess room. Matthew had excellent hearing and managed to pick up Alfred's half of the conversation.

"What did I say about using alien technology in the apartment?" his brother hissed. As if to supply the other end of he conversation, he answered for him.

"That's right. I told you not to. Did you think it was funny letting her in?" he said, and he must have said some smartalecky remark.

"Don't do it again," he huffed, coming out of the room. Amy hadn't tried talking to him. He might as well have been some animal at the zoo. She switched her attention to Alfred as soon as she saw him.

"Am I going to see Tony today?" she asked, and he glared at her, not all happy to have her there, surprisingly.

"No and don't you ever have homework?" he asked, and she pouted, crossing her arms in clear defiance. Canada watched like the ghostly spectator he currently was. He seemed more inclined to act hostile than before. Was it because of what happened last time?

" Can you ever be nice when I come over?" she asked, and he pointed Matthew out. Oh, so much for observing from afar.

"Yeah, talk to my good twin, if you want nice," he said.

"Fine," she said, turning to Matthew and holding up a hand.

"Hey, what's your name?" she asked. Why was he not surprised?

"I'm Matthew. So, I guess Alfred hasn't told you about me?" he said, sounding a little more irritated than he intended. Of course, he hadn't said anything about him. Alfred hadn't even planned to keep her around this long.

"He's barely told me anything. Where are you guys from? He keeps dodging the question," she asked, and Alfred immediately shot him a look. He ignored him.

"Well, I'm from Canada,"he said, and only then, did he process what the look meant, lie, you dumbass.

"Oh, so you're both Canadian," she said, and he kept himself from laughing. There was a less of a chance his brother would kill him if he didn't laugh. Alfred stepped in to do damage control.

"No, my_ twin_ brother has dual citizenship, but he was born in Minnesota, because it would have been impossible for us to be born separately _Matthew_," he said, quick to emphasize why his response had been idiotic.

"Right, but I don't consider myself American," he amended quickly. No need to revisit that issue again.

"Why not?" America said, and Canada slapped his forehead.

"For the last time Alfred, it isn't happening," he said, giving him a pointed look. America kept gesturing to the girl to try and convince him to play along for the sake of the lie. He shook his head, no, not even hypothetically.

"Just admit it," he said, and Canada glared at him.

"No, especially after you invaded . . ." he trailed off when he noticed Amy's confusion.

" My um personal space, not like you burned down my house of anything," he said, laughing nervously. America put his face in his hands. Yeah, she was going to ask some follow up questions.

"Are you afraid of the dark?"she asked. Canada blinked profusely. Those weren't the sort of follow up questions he was expecting. Why would she even bring that up? His eyes widened. He didn't. How could he?

"Have you been making fun of me behind my back?" Canada asked, and he must have been guilty. He was having trouble keeping himself from laughing.

"No, it seriously is not what you think," he said.

"Hey, I bet you would be afraid of the dark too if he stuck you in the closet," Canada said, and America shrugged.

"Well, I'm not," he said, increasing the intensity of Canada's glare.

"Wait, closet?" Amy asked, and Alfred sighed.

"My father didn't see him and accidentally locked him in the closet for a few hours, and he's been afraid of the dark ever since," he said. Canada frowned, knowing his soft voice had something to do with it

"That's horrible," Amy said. Canada didn't say anything. Uncomfortable with the pity, he sometimes freaked out in the dark now, but he handled it a lot better than when he was three, and there was no such thing as electricity.

"Hey, it's not like he locked him in there on purpose like he did my younger brother," America said, realizing his mistake one second too late. That sort of parenting wasn't considered normal these days.

"You didn't have a good childhood did you?" Amy said, pity redirected to Alfred who did not deserve it. He practically got off scott free compared to the rest of them.

"Well, actually," he started to say, but she shushed him.

"It's okay. You don't have to talk about," she said, patting his back.

"Yes, because apparently, I'm from Minnesota now, and we have an abusive father," he said, trying to give America a chance to see how ridiculous the web of lies was going to get if he didn't correct her now.

"He kind of was later," America said, and Canada for the life of him couldn't disagree. It was just come off as denial in front of their current company. The best he could do was change the subject.

"Can we not talk about it now," he said and America rolled his eyes.

"Whatever," he said. The two of them didn't say anything else, and that was part of the problem. Amy shifted her weight to one foot then the other, probably feeling like a third wheel or even more likely, like she had stumbled into a war zone.

"So, um, if you two are in the middle of something, I can leave," she said, hands behind her back preparing for a bashful retreat.

"Then, why did you even stop by?" he snapped at her. Matthew frowned. That seemed kind of harsh. What exactly had changed between now, and last time, when Alfred had nothing but nice things to say about her?

"It's the weekend, and I thought we could hang out. I didn't realize you'd have your brother over," she said, apologetic instead of angry.

" You never call first. How would you even know I was here?" he asked, and she appeared startled by the accusation.

"I did. Tony said you were home," she said, and he calmed down.

"Oh, he didn't tell me, sorry for snapping at you," he said. Looks like, his brother would have to add a talk about intercepting calls to his increasing list of one on ones with Tony.

"It's okay. I get you're a moody person," she said, accepting his snappish behavior without being particularly happy about it. Alfred looked like he wanted to apologize further but would not spit the words out, typical.

"He gets it from our dad," Matthew butted in.

"I'm not moody all the time. Usually I'm happy-go- lucky," he claimed, and this was usually the case, but it seemed that he was more prone to irritability now.

"So, why are you always weird around me?"Amy asked, and Canada pulled a Kumajinko.

"He likes you," he said, and Alfred hid his face to hide the fact that he was blushing.

"Shut up," he said, glaring at Matthew. Unfortunately for Alfred, he would not get the satisfaction of shutting him up. He was having far too much fun.

"I think asking her to move in with you in the near future kind of tipped her off," Matthew said, smirking. He was on a roll. She pried away one of his hands and initiated the hand holding, despite the less than stellar treatment she'd been getting so far.

"Yup," she said, and Alfred let his other hand fall to his side. Taking a deep breath, Alfred reluctantly removed Amy's hand and started to push Matthew out the door, or he tried to. Matthew wasn't too keen on going anywhere.

"Anyway, my brother was just leaving," he said, only managing to move him a few inches from his previous position in the living room after several consecutive pushes.

" No, I wasn't," he said, looking up at him innocently as his brother tried to drag him off into some unknown location.

"He can't. Matthew hasn't answered all my questions yet," Amy said, grabbing hold of Matthew's hand in an effort to slow Alfred down. He didn't really need the help. Alfred grit his teeth.

"And, he's not going to," he said, determined to kick him out since he was in a chatty mood, and it was two against one.

"Come on, you wouldn't even tell me what your middle name is," she complained, and Matthew looked back at the decor. He had an idea why.

"Do you want to know what it was originally or what he changed it to?" he asked, and America dropped him. Ow.

"Both,"she said, helping him up eagerly.

"I swear I will throw you out the door," America threatened, making sure to keep his voice low. Canada smiled, having more at his disposal than mere force.

"And, I'll tell her you used to wet th-" America covered his mouth before he could finish.

"No one needs to hear about that," he said, releasing him once Canada nodded. America backed off, and Amy looked at both of them, hesitantly inquiring further

"So, his middle name is?"

"Freedom, it used to be Frederick," Canada said, and Amy's grin increased ten fold.

"You weren't kidding about the all American boy thing were you?" she asked Alfred whose cheeks were probably contributing to global warming with all the heat they were giving off.

"No, and it's not funny," he said, sitting on the couch and facing away from them. Amy sat down next to him anyway.

"It's cute. What are you America?" she asked, jokingly, except America didn't seem to realize it was a joke.

"Hahaha- what -why would you even-" he scrambled for words, time for Canada to save him.

"No, my brother is just very impulsive and liked the sound of it. I had to talk him out of changing his name to America. So, if I call him that, it's just a silly nickname, " he said, and while she seemed to find it strange, she nodded.

" Oh sure but I think I'll stick with Al," she said, and Canada had another evil thought.

"Our little brother calls him Ally," he said. America ribbed him in the gut, oh donut hell, that hurt.

"I hate you," he said, and Canada took a sharp intake of breath before responding.

"What? She should know her options." he gasped, still totally worth it. Since she couldn't have known how strong Alfred really was, she didn't realize in how much pain he was actually in and saw it as acceptable sibling warfare.

"I'll remember that next time he makes me mad. I think you two need some time to talk,"she said, attempting to leave without making a fuss. Oh but the fun couldn't end now.

"Would you like to join us for breakfast?"he asked, and Alfred put him in an arm lock.

"Who says you get to eat any?" he asked, and luckily, Canada still had some leverage.

"Well, I am making the pancakes," he said. Alfred didn't not loosen his hold on Matthew's neck.

"From scratch?" he asked. Matthew felt he was pushing it, but decided that making a good first impression was more important than punching his brother's lights out.

"Yep," he said, and Alfred released his hold on him.

"Okay then, I forgive you," he said, and Amy looked at them both uncertainly.

"You sure, I wouldn't be intruding?" she asked, and Matthew answered before Alfred could.

"No, not at all, and since my brother keeps going on and on about you, I'd like to know what the fuss is about," he said, surprised when America didn't have a rebuttal.

"Sit down, we'll have the pancakes ready in a while," he said, pulling a chair out for her.

"Thanks," she said. By her surprised tone, he wasn't usually so chivalrous.

"You're welcome," he said, avoiding eye contact before unceremoniously heading to the kitchen. Matthew followed, more concerned than he originally was. This was more than a what if. He was responding negatively to something. Should his brother be having mood swings? He never notice this kind of thing happen to Prussia. So, he didn't think it had anything to do with his current situation.

"Is everything okay, Alfred?" Matthew asked. Alfred took out the ingredients and didn't look directly at him.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked. Matthew tried a more direct approach.

"You tend to snap at Amy a lot, and you stopped looking either of us in the eye," he said, and Alfred grumbled unintelligibly.

"I didn't hear that," Matthew said. He was handed a spatula.

"Work pancake slave," he said. Alfred started mixing the ingredients while Canada waited for the batter to be done. He couldn't ignore the fact his brother was having problems, and they were alone for now.

" I mean it. Tell me what's going on, trouble in paradise?" he asked. Alfred handed him the mixing bowl.

"You mix. I'll talk," he said. Matthew nodded, small price to pay to get some info.

"Well, you weren't here because you were having a secret meeting but-" America said, but Canada had issue with America knowing that.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"Russia told me, all you have to do is talk to him for a few minutes and he spills his guts like a little baby," America said. Canada blanched at the news. They were more alike then they liked to think.

"Anyway, as I was saying, something went down," he said. Canada stopped mixing and waited.

"Mix," he said again. Canada obliged, and America looked over where Amy would be if he could see through the door.

"We'll have to keep it down. She's literally a few feet from us," he said. Again, Canada nodded patiently. He wanted to hear this.

"Everything started okay. I went to bio, nothing too overwhelming, read this, study that, don't procrastinate, you know the drill," Canada nodded, not sure what that had to do with the situation at hand.

"I came back, and she was in my apartment. And, I start thinking she shouldn't be coming over this much. I told her so," he said, and Canada poured the batter into a perfect circle.

"Oh, Alfred, we're you at least tactful when you mentioned it?" he asked, and America bit his lip. No, no he wasn't.

"We start fighting, and it gets to the point where neither of us have a cohesive argument. Then, I told her not to come back to my house, and she ran out crying," he said, looking at the door again. Canada did too, flipping the pancake first, no need to let it burn.

"I see, and she shows up the next day to try and talk about the fight, but I'm here so she can't talk to you without making a scene. No wonder she didn't want to stick around," Matthew said, and Alfred nodded.

"It's not like I mind her being around, but-" he started to say. Matthew nodded, putting the first pancake on a plate.

"You don't want her to fall behind because of you," he said, pouring the batter and making a second pancake.

"No, that was part of the fight, but it's not why I snapped at her. This is the first week so it's not like the workload is that intensive yet," he said. Matthew flipped the pancake.

"Then, what's the problem?" he asked, and Alfred muttered again.

"Say it, Alfred, or we aren't going to get anywhere," he said.

"She brought a boy," Alfred said, and Matthew launched the pancake at the wall. So, there really wasn't anything to worry about.

"I guess the emergency meeting was a moot point," Matthew said in earnest. Alfred looked down at the floor, grinding his foot onto the tile.

"She wanted to introduce me to Andy, a guy from her creative writing class," he said, and Canada ruined a second pancake, another writer, that would make Alfred touchy.

"Uhuh," he said, so much for following his better instincts.

"After introductions, I had sense enough to ask him to leave before I said anything stupid to him, and I guess that was what started the fight. The whole spending too much time in my apartment was my rebuttal to Amy's, you have no friends. Would it kill you to be nice?" he said, backtracking his original statement. Ouch.

"So, kicking him out set her off? He asked," Alfred scrapped the pancakes off the wall threw them out.

"She may have been okay with it until she asked me what I thought of him," he said. Matthew managed not to flip a pancake across the small kitchen this time.

"What did you say?" he asked, and Alfred laughed, a shameful laugh.

"I think he's an utter bore. He's clearly latched onto you for lack of anyone else to hear his pompous rhetoric. You could do better, my dear." Alfred said, complete with British accent. Alfred kept him from throwing another pancake at the wall.

"You did not use the British accent," he said. America nodded, rubbing his neck sheepishly.

"I thought she would laugh," he said. Matthew observed his handy work, a little slow with all the little mishaps. Let's see, three out of five pancakes salvaged, not bad. He'd just have to pick up the pace so their guest wouldn't go hungry, or worse yet, go away entirely.

" Try to be nicer, and keep your opinions to yourself," Matthew said, and Alfred confiscated the spatula. He handed it over willingly since he'd made such a mess.

"Fine, next time, I'll think about what a Canadian would do and do that," he said. Matthew rolled his eyes.

"You don't have to make everything into a joke," he said, and Alfred grinned.

"Try to stay sane in Washington without a sense of humor, I dare you," he said. Matthew shrugged.

"All I'm saying is that saying something rude in a British accent doesn't mean the girl will automatically forgive you for being rude," he said, and Alfred held up three fingers.

"It's worked thrice," he said. Matthew wished he could deny that was a possibility, but for whatever reason, humans found certain accents charming.

"Let's just finish these pancakes before we lose our guest," Matthew said. Alfred dumped another pancake onto the current batch.

They managed to make the rest without mishaps, and his brother's mood improved since they talked about the situation. When they brought out the pancakes, they found out Amy had busied herself ripping napkins into tiny pieces- all of them. Since Alfred had handled their fight badly the day before, he seemed to bite his tongue and go easy on her, even helping her clean it up. Matthew served the pancakes and milk, while putting the horrible excuse for maple syrup next to the plates in case they wanted any.

"I really thought you two had killed each other in there when things took so long," Amy said. They both looked at each other and laughed.

"Trust me, you would hear a tiny Canadian cry like a whisper in the wind," he said. Canada stabbed at his pancake when he heard that.

"And Alfred would be bawling more than Niagra falls," Matthew said, and Alfred looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it.

"You're awesome for doing this," Amy said, eating huge mouthfuls and overall appearing to be in pancake heaven. Ah, the joy of a job well done.

"Don't mention it," he said. Canada suddenly felt his curl twitch. Odd there wasn't any strong winds to make it move around erratically like that. The only other time it did that was when . . . oh, the green eyed monster was approaching, and for once, it wasn't England.

"Hey, he's the one that wanted you out of the picture. You're lucky I changed my mind," Alfred said, and Matthew's eyes widened. There were too many creepy things about that sentence to contemplate. He hoped Amy wouldn't take it too seriously.

"Yeah right, he's making us pancakes, and you've already tried to kick him out twice. Don't blame your problems on other people," she said, and Matthew sighed in relief. She seemed nice enough, but clearly, she was not as shrewd as Amelia had been.

" Ha, I won," he said, sticking his tongue out. A little juvenile, but he felt he deserved a a chance to be the fun brother.

"Can-Matthew when did you get this petty?"he said, flabbergasted.

"You're probably spreading your American disease, one Canadian at a time" he said, in a dead panned maner.

"Nu huh, liar,"he said, noise up in the air.

"Wait, what was with the Can at the beginning?" Amy asked. Or maybe, she did pay attention sometimes. Alfred recovered first.

"His middle name is Candance," he said, and the lies thicken.

"Now, you're not getting pancakes,"Canada said, taking his share. Amy took the plate from him and gave it back.

"It's okay. So, your father played a horribly cruel trick on you and gave you a girl's name. It's not the end of the world," she said, playing mediator.

"Yes, that's totally what's going on here. There's no web of lies," he said, and Alfred glared.

"Shut up Candace," Alfred said. Matthew cracked his knuckles.

"Make me Ally,"he said, making Alfred stand up.

"I should go," Amy said, getting up as well. Alfred switched gears at an alarming speed. He stacked more pancakes on her plate.

"No, stay, fresh blueberry pancakes," he said, putting it right next to her nose. She sat right back down. Why was it so easy to bribe Americans with food? She started eating a second stack, table manners a little better than Alfred's but not by much.

"Thanks, these are really good," she said, and he winced at how much of that fake maple syrup she put on them.

"They'd taste better with real maple syrup," he said quietly. Alfred heard him.

"Don't you start. You're in a high fructose syrup household right now," he said, wagging his finger at him.

"You two bicker a lot," Amy said, in between bites.

"And, you shy away from confrontation," Alfred said, and she did indeed, go back to eating pancakes but not before saying her two cents.

" At least, I don't hide my insecurities by trying to be the toughest thing around," she said. Matthew froze, letting the piece of pancake he was about to eat fall back on the plate. He turned to Alfred who appeared to be even more shocked than he was. What he heard next was more astounding, Alfred wiped his face with a napkin and answered quietly.

"You're right. I do, and I shouldn't have yelled at you, " he said, and clearly, Amy hadn't expected him to apologize.

"It's okay. I did start it," she said, and Alfred shook his head.

" But I should know better by now," he said.

"We're the same age," Amy argued. Matthew let another piece of pancake fall back onto the plate. And there it was, another elephant in the room, one Alfred was trying hard to ignore. He blinked and was slow to reply.

"Of course I am," he said, attempting to swallow the lie with a fake smile. Canada took a bite out of his pancake and shook his head, wondering when America would get a clue.

"Anyway, I'll be coming over less when I start flight school and my school work picks up so you don't have to worry about me coming over too much," she said, getting up to leave. Canada waited for America to freak out in three, two, one.

"Please don't stop coming over. I like that you come visit me. Otherwise the only other friends I have is my brother with no backbone, a Japanese man that's too polite not to talk to me, a big burly Russian guy who has tried to kill me multiple times, and Tony who has a skin condition," he said, getting on his hands and knees and grabbing her pant leg. She stiffened, looking down at him as if he were sad puppy.

"Oh Al, I'm not going to stop coming over all together, but I though you were sick of me and wanted some space?" she asked uncertainly, lowering herself to the floor so she could talk to him more directly. He hugged her, and muttered an I'm sorry. Canada watched with mild interest. He could really lay it on thick when he put the effort in. She patted his back, accepting the sudden up-well of crocodile tears.

"Promise, you'll come back?" he asked, and she nodded.

"But, I really should go after what happened last time," she said, letting out a small squeak when he hugged her tighter. Canada frowned, wondering if America remembered that he could snap her spine if he wasn't careful. He'd step in if he saw it heading that direction.

"No, it's okay. I want you to stay," he said, and she nodded, caving.

"I guess if you want me to," she said, sounding almost hypnotized. Canada let his head hit the table. He used that stupid trick again.

"Now, go pick out a movie, I have a feeling my brother wants to talk me in private," he said, and she nodded, looking a little dazed. America signaled for him to get up. They went into his room. America sat on the bed and wiped away the fake tears, grinning from ear to ear.

"What?" he asked.

"You're a horrible human being," he stated flatly.

"I'm trying to get better at it," America said, a little hurt by the accusation. Canada wanted to strangle him for not getting it.

"People don't do whatever that was," he said, pointing to the door. America looked over at the closed door worriedly.

"Keep it down, she might hear you," he said in a half whisper. Canada curled his hands into fists, knowing a small puff of smoke was coming out of his head. That wasn't that normal either but well . . .

"You just brained washed her into staying because you were afraid she wasn't coming back," he said, and America actually looked taken back.

"You thought that was . . . no, dude, she stayed because I asked her to. I can do that," he explained, and Canada gaped at him.

"But, she clearly wanted to go, and then, you fake cried, clung to her and asked her to-to stay," he said, realizing it checked out after he said it.

"Still, if it isn't brainwashing, what is it?" he asked, and America seriously contemplated the question.

"Instinct, I guess. You and the other nations can do the same thing I think, but it takes practice to be able to do it at will," he said, shrugging as if this was a fairly normal occurrence. Too Canada, it still sounded like brainwashing, but he could do it too apparently.

"I don't think I have ever done that," he said.

"Yeah, you have. Most of the time it is subtle and involuntary, but people from our respective countries naturally want to do things for us," he said, and that made more sense to him, still, he . . . there was that one girl who gave him some food for Kumacinco when he complained he was out of food for him or that man who helped fix his car so he wouldn't be late for a meeting.

"Oh," he said, sitting next to his brother. America tapped his fingers on the bed, and looked him over.

"I didn't freak you out did I? I know I laid it on a little thick, but I didn't want her to go away," he said, and Canada shook his head. He would likely be more aware of the whole "I want to help you" thing, but nothing had particularly changed. They were alone, and after seeing what he saw, he did have one giant concern. America had clearly not overcome his control issues.

"You can't keep this up forever, America. Eventually, she's going to either figure out what you are or you're going to have to go away," Canada said, and America patted his back and let loose a hardy laugh.

"The Hollywood makeup guy I talked to seemed very positive he could fake the long term aging process," he said. Canada let himself fall onto the bed. His brother had gone insane, and no amount of blueberry pancakes was going to fix the aftermath of this one.

"Come on, she's waiting for us outside," America said, pulling him up. Canada nodded and joined him. The most he could do was delay the detonator.

"Amy, why don't you go home? We have a lot more to discuss," he said, ignoring the angry if colorful aura of red, white and blue behind him.

"But he doesn't want me to go," she said, as if that was the only thing that mattered to her right this second. Matthew dared to turn around, and America's face was no less hostile than he had picture in his mind. He turned back to Amy. Canada had an idea, and he hoped he was right about this.

"But, you want to go home?" he asked. She blinked snapping out of her daze.

"Yeah, I have flight school tomorrow, and I'm feeling drained," she admitted, not looking directly at America. Canada watched his brother closely. America frowned, and Matthew noticed his lip twitch slightly, a definite sign of guilt. Alfred sighed.

"You can go," he said, letting her leave. Just as Canada thought, the power of suggestion was a two way street. America punched him in the shoulder.

"You suck," he said, before picking up the plates. Canada didn't respond. They'd argued enough today. Alfred and Matthew did indeed have a very long talk. Yet, Matthew had a feeling the talk wouldn't amount to much.

* * *

_**For the record, I don't think Canadians are afraid of the dark. (X Why did this get updated twice in a row? Well, usually, either, America or England are the ones who serve as my muses when I'm writing, but this time is was Russia. So, I was very much like, oh okay then, I'll update this if you want. 0-0 Enjoy, the monster chapter and please review.**_


	9. I Don't Care

I Don't Care

Alfred tried to find patterns on the ceiling. He just kept seeing stupid maple leafs. Of course, the word controlling made its way into the conversation, and apparently, if he continued to make "suggestions," he was no better than a slave owner. Yes, Canada went there. He couldn't let his brother get to him. He hadn't crossed a line, because he wanted her to stay a little longer. He hadn't . . .

But even America realized something had gone horribly wrong. Amy hadn't stopped by in over a week. Alfred still couldn't work up the nerve to go to her place, not after what he said to her. He kept putting it off, thinking she would show up eventually. She never did.

There wasn't anyone to distract him either. Canada left for home soon after their argument, and the rest of the visiting countries had gone home long before that. So, Alfred had plenty of time to think. Some of that time was spent doing homework, but there wasn't much of it. Exams counted more than anything, and most of his exams weren't till October. As for the essay due at the end of the month, he finished three days ago, analyzing the works of Shakespeare wasn't a problem when your original tutor was England.

With the rest of his free time, he focused on finding his elusive umph. Simple right? Unfortunately no, if anything, Alfred was even worse off since renouncing his title as America. He couldn't rely on the collective knowledge of his people anymore. So, Alfred needed to ask people two hundred and sixteen years younger than him for help when he didn't understand something. The first few times in particular had been especially humiliating for him.

Alfred did not go out of his way to ask someone when the teacher assigned a new practice sheet. He simply asked the person next to him, Angela, a classic queen bee. You know, the type of girl who dots her I's with hearts to be cute. While she was more than willing to help, she tended to talk too fast and interject gossip into her explanations. So, he knew her best friend Brittany "might" be pregnant, but not how in the hell she had solved problem number five. He may have called Bill again after that. Unfortunately, the line was busy. Still, he was determined to get these equations done as soon as possible.

Wanting to avoid another headache, he tried asking the guy next to him next class. His luck wasn't so great though, because he happened to be Brittany's potential baby's daddy. Instead of getting help, he ended up giving Antonio advice on what to do if the results were positive. Then, class finished with the answer to the last equation still alluding him. He could ask Amy if only - no. If Amy wanted to see him, she would have shown up by now. He would have cope with what he had.

Naturally, the third girl he asked turned out to be Brittany. Alfred gave up getting help and escorted her to the drug store after class to get the pregnancy test. Thankfully, the results were negative, and he didn't get any more involved than that. He decided to avoid sitting in that particular row from now on.

Alfred always felt tired, even if he did little else but watch tv. So, one day, he may have given in and taken a nap in the middle of the day. And man, Alfred felt ashamed when he woke up to a puddle of drool on the pillow. Some adult, he was lately. He hadn't napped in the middle of the day since he was eight. Still, the nap had been refreshing, and Alfred figured out quickly that a small nap could do wonders when he didn't want to get hyped up on caffeine.

All in all, Alfred was starting to adjust. Alfred went to sleep by twelve instead of staying up all hours of the night now. He didn't think he'd ever be able to stay up days at a time like he used to. Not that he needed to anymore, Alfred wasn't dealing with complicated national issues these days. He could afford to sleep eight hours without everything going to hell. Then of course, he swallowed his pride and compiled a list of available tutors for Calculus and Chemistry. His new tutors proved to be a lot more helpful than his classmates. On top of that, he organized his notes and papers and created a schedule to better keep up in classes that he could no longer breeze through.

However, Alfred had bigger problems than a few calculus equations this week. He neglected to delete his congressional and presidential contact list from his phone. Okay, so maybe, he intended to bring all those numbers with him, but he struggled avoiding old patterns. America tried very hard not to call any of his senators or congressmen about issues that were annoying him.

Second, he ignored the new guy's calls. From what little he'd heard from other countries the new guy visited, he wasn't worth talking to anyway. (Heck, even Poland was pissed at him, and it took a lot to rub Feliks the wrong way.) Normally, he would feel guilty not giving a potential presidential candidate his time, but America had for all intents and purposes resigned, so, if he needed to snub the new candidate in order to stay out of politics, so be it.

One of the worst possible temptations Alfred faced was Obama's calls. No way, he could ignore that guy, not while he was still president, but he also didn't want to get sucked into politics again. Alfred usually managed to fight the urge to ask how things were going. Luckily, a lot of the time, Obama's calls had nothing to do with work. Obama tended to ask questions straight out of the parent's manual. How are your classes so far? Are you staying out of trouble? Is the alien giving you a hard time? Fine, maybe, not the last one, but he had mixed feelings about the change. Their interaction didn't feel normal if they weren't talking business.

In order to combat his growing restlessness, he experimented a lot. Usually, he made simple changes, nothing too extreme that he couldn't take back. (Alfred had decided this soon after he attempted to get a haircut. The hairdresser had aimed right at Nantucket, and he ran out of there faster than a horse in a Kentucky derby.)

He painted his apartment again. This time in a bunch of earthy colors that were supposed to make the place more welcoming. Alfred hated the new colors. The dark tones only made the rooms feel smaller than they were. He couldn't wait to repaint next week. Then again, sometimes he really loved the new color scheme, and he had no idea why.

Alfred started going out without his trusty bomber jacket. He even tried dressing in formal attire. For whatever reason, doing so made him paranoid that Arthur would see, and he always checked behind him, just in case. Never mind if he was across the ocean, Arthur would find a way. Naturally, he reached the point when he ditched the suits and returned to wearing his old bomber jacket and whatever clean t-shirt and jeans he could find. But then, he would randomly get the urge to dress up in formal attire again. He didn't get it.

He also tried finding out what his actual favorite food was. His first victim, an apple pie. He didn't like it any less than before. Then, the next day, he bought some tacos from a random street vendor. He didn't hate the taco either, but did he like it more than the apple pie? And later, Alfred ate a hamburger that he was sure would win but found himself craving sushi afterwards. He was horribly confused by the end of the week. Alfred gave up trying to find which food he liked best. He had a lot of people with varying tastes living in his country. That wasn't something that was going to change.

Somehow, Alfred felt he was failing. He should have at least figured out one thing about himself that had nothing to do with his ex-country status. Why did this have to be so hard? There had to be something- anything that had nothing to do with it.

That brought him back to the ceiling with the stupid maple leafs, mocking him. He took a deep breath and considered sleeping in, what did he have to do today, really? Looking back up, he noticed a cat in between all the maple leafs. The plaster design reminded him of his own fat cat, probably sitting in the president's chair, provided he could get away with it. Hero wasn't always welcomed to that spot. Then, he had an epiphany.

He liked cats better than dogs. Of course, he had an immortal cat that made him kind of bias but that was something he was sure about. He took another minute to think of something else. When it came to ice cream, he liked to get vanilla with sprinkles or rocky road, still conflicting choices but consistent. So, he wasn't completely ruled by indecision at least. Finally, he thought of a big one. He hated the cold, even if not everyone in the nation agreed. Forget ice skating and people's precious winter wonderland, he'd rather have mild weather and a chance to swim in the lake.

Since coming here, he had made a lot of friends who had no reason to put up with him or kiss up. A lot of his previous friendships consisted of people who worked for him or he was obligated to work with, a.k.a. the other countries. Then, of course, he was drawn to movie stars and singers, no matter what decade it was. But, he liked Amy and his neighbors, and they weren't celebrities or anyone, people in the country fawned over. So, that was his choice too. Although with Amy, if he considered who she used to be, his initial attraction to her was definitely debatable.

What to do now? He couldn't stay mad at Canada forever. Still, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of calling first. So, maybe, he could spend this time hanging out with one of his neighbors or . . . yes, duh, he hadn't run into Lisa, even after all this time. Sure, he had no idea if she was even on campus or where she lived if she wasn't, but how hard could she be to find?

Very, apparently, Alfred searched for well over an hour without finding any trace of her. Then again, it was a Friday afternoon and chances of running into her weren't very high in the first place. He should probably stop trying to force a chance encounter.

"Lisa where are you?" he shouted. It was worth a shot.

A couple of people turned around and gave him weird looks. Oh well, it's not like he expected her to answer, but then, a soft voice called out his name.

"Alfred?"

Wow, shouting like a maniac actually worked. After he took a good look around, Alfred realized that he shouldn't be so surprised. Lisa was sitting in the same exact spot where they first met. He should have come here sooner.

"Hey, sorry for shouting, I was hoping to run into you," Alfred said, knowing that probably wasn't the best thing to say to a girl he'd only met once. He sounded kind of desperate, and if he wasn't giving off stalker vibes before, he was now. Lisa raised an eyebrow. Obviously, she shared his skepticism.

"I do not mind. Is there a reason you were looking for me?" Lisa asked, not moving from the spot. Since her bag was still at her feet, unopened, she must have just arrived when he called out to her.

"Um . . . I could use some company if you're not busy,"Alfred said, unsure of himself now. Despite France's insistence she was magnifique in ever possible way, Alfred had to wonder, what the hell did Joan of Arc do in her free time? Was this the equivalent of asking a nun out on a date?

"Well, I was going to read," she said, gesturing to her unopened pack. Alfred looked down at his feet. He'd gone with the velcro straps today.

"Oh,"he said.

"But, as far as I'm concerned, people come first. What would you like to do?" Lisa said, subtly signaling for him to sit next to her. Alfred didn't move, keeping his hands in his pockets.

"I haven't thought that far ahead yet," Alfred admitted. He didn't think he should take her to his apartment. According to Matthew, he had to "slow down " when it came to girls, whatever that meant. Did this even count? He just wanted some company. Anyone would do, but he didn't go and pick anyone did he?

Darn, he was getting distracted. He needed something for them to do together. A movie? No, that wouldn't work on a Friday. The theater would be too crowded. Gah, he was usually better at this. They could take a walk or - She frowned, crossing her arms.

"You're remarkably unprepared to entertain me," Lisa said. Her frown quickly switching to a faint smile.

"I wasn't expecting to find you," he said. Of course, he should have had a plan before barging out of the apartment, but . . . Bah, he wasn't making much sense.

"And yet, you did, some would call that a small miracle" Lisa said, stretching before leaning against the tree. Her eyes still trained on his in a very inconsequential and only mildly interested way as if she was simply watching a stray balloon floating up into the sky.

"Pshht, you were in the same place I found you the first time," he said. No need to call everything a miracle or else this friendship wasn't going to work. She half giggled and snorted again. Ah, he could get used to that. Maybe, he could even get milk to come out of her nose one day.

"I was planning to stay home today. I decided to come here and read on a whim. You were lucky."

Or his power of suggestion was more potent than he originally imagined, he hoped not. America didn't really want to abuse that particular mode of persuasion. Okay, so, Canada had more of an impact on him than he led on. Matthew had compared him to a slave owner. Alfred wasn't going to let that go anytime soon.

"Guess so," he mumbled pathetically into his jacket. Maybe, this wasn't such a good idea. They had nothing in common, and his first close friend in a while outside the white house wasn't speaking to him right now. Did he really want to make it two for two?

"Perhaps, we could just sit here and talk?" Lisa said when he didn't make a move to sit down. Eh, why not? He didn't have anywhere else to be.

"Sounds good," he said, finally sitting next to her. Alfred couldn't think of anything to say, and she wasn't making an effort to end the silence. Maybe, she could be his "quiet friend" like Japan.

"Will I be supplying most of the conversation, then?" Lisa said. Then again, he might need put more effort into this particular friendship.

"Sorry, I'm sort of used to yelling. Sometimes, I don't know what to say if I'm not in the middle of an argument," he joked. Due to his somewhat abrasive nature, America felt more comfortable arguing than having a calm serious discussion. Probably, why the meetings didn't really drive him crazy. In fact, he kind of thrived in that sort of environment. He loved a challenge.

"Really? That seems like an awful way to live. Would you like to talk about it? "Lisa said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Alfred froze. Oh snap, he must sound so damaged because Lisa didn't know the context.

"No, I mean . . . I know how it sounds, but everything's fine honest. " Alfred said, frantically waving his arms back and forth. She frowned, obviously not believing him. He kept smiling, hoping that would make her drop the subject. She sighed.

"If you insist, I will not push, but if everything is fine, why would you seek out a stranger? " Lisa asked.

"You seemed nice, and I was bored," he said with a shrug. Alfred would keep it simple. No need to bring up failed friendships. Saying, "you seem like an adequate replacement" wasn't going to get him anywhere.

"Hmm . . . alright then," Lisa said.

"So, what were you planning to read?"

Lisa dug into her backpack and took out a piece of literature that Alfred never expected to be in her possession.

"Alice's Adventure in Wonderland," she said. Alfred confiscated the book and inspected it. Worn and yellowed pages and no bar code in sight, this was definitely not checked out from the library. Former Miss Joan of Arc owned a copy of Alice in Wonderland, Alfred almost couldn't believe it, but the proof was in his hands.

"Wow," he said.

Lisa took the book from him and held it close to her chest.

"How so?" she asked, defensive now. Very aware, he had a whole list of questionable hobbies. Alfred decided it was in his best interest not to make a big deal out of this.

"Wouldn't have been my first guess," he said, grinning at her. It's not like he'd caught her with a book on the occult.

"Do you think you know me already Alfred?" Lisa asked quietly.

Ah geez, Alfred didn't mean to make her feel bad about it. There wasn't anything wrong with the fanciful story. He just hadn't expected her to like stuff like that.

"Francis talks about you enough. I would think you'd be more into nonfiction," he said with a shrug. His persistent nonchalance worked. She set the book on her lap, putting a hand on the cover.

"It's a childhood favorite. The extraordinary intrigues me," Lisa said, looking directly at him when she said extraordinary.

Alfred gulped and ripped a fistful of grass from the ground. He didn't call attention to it and let the clumps of dirt fall from his finger tips. She certainly had a way with words.

"Trust me, the extraordinary gets old after a while. Met a Chinese dragon once, total jerk, and Nessie forget about it. She'd let you drown before risking her neck," he joked, trying to keep his mind from jumping to conclusions. She didn't know.

"Oh, you and your silly stories, Alfred," Lisa said. Yup, she definitely didn't know. Probably wouldn't believe him if he ever told her. That suited him just fine.

"I have a lot more where that came from," Alfred said, knowing full well that he was pushing his luck by actually telling her the truth. It's not like he was telling her anything any sane person would believe.

"Like what?" she asked.

"My brother turns invisible when he has self esteem issues," Alfred said. She did the whole giggle half snort thing again.

"Oh really, and what do you do?" she asked.

"Shrink or regress a bit, I've flown to London on a number of occasions when I wanted my daddy around," he admitted. She frowned at him. Alfred had trouble figuring out why when it finally hit him. Right, that's not what he'd told her.

"Didn't you say Mr Bonnefoy was your father?" she asked, giving him the benefit of the doubt. He could easily say he moved to London, but he'd rather keep his lies simple.

"Well, he's not my father and the guy from London isn't either. Mr. Kirkland and Mr Bonnefoy took care of me when I was little so that's what I call them" Alfred said, realizing too late how that sounded.

"Ah, so he's-" Lisa started to say. Alfred cut her off.

"No, not that there is anything wrong with that. If you want to kiss a girl, you go right ahead, just don't tell the army. Wait, they repealed that, never mind," he said, extremely flustered.

"What was that about?" Lisa said, smirking at him. He let his head hit the tree bark with a thud.

"I'm a very confused and tormented soul," Alfred said, looking up at the sky.

"I'm beginning to see that," Lisa said. He chuckled.

"You can never tell when I'm kidding."

"But Alfred, you seem to use laughter as a coping mechanism, and every joke usually has a kernel of truth to it."

"Really, I'm fine. Besides, you can't diagnose me. You're not a psychiatrist," Alfred said, not liking where this was going. He wasn't messed up inside. Everything just kept coming out wrong.

" I have a minor in psychology," Lisa said. Checkmate.

"Please, take my word for it, then" he said.

"Sure, Alfred, there's nothing I can do to help you if you don't want to talk about it," she conceded. At least, she didn't like to push.

" Good, I get enough lectures from my brother," Alfred muttered. He stopped himself from facepalming. Why? Why couldn't he stop talking?

"What kind of lectures?" she asked. Okay, he could do this. He just needed to keep it vague.

"Usually, he'll try to convince me not do something if he thinks what I'm doing is wrong," Alfred said.

"It's perfectly natural for the older brother to look out for the younger brother," Lisa said. Alfred blanched. So awkward . . .

"I'm the older one," he said, and for once, she looked uncomfortable.

"Oh well, everyone matures at a different pace," Lisa said. He was mildly offended.

"Hey, I look out for him too," Alfred said. She patted his shoulder.

"I'm sure you do. It's just, if he feels compelled to do so incessantly, maybe, you're repeating certain patterns that trouble him" Lisa explained. Well . . . Canada did have good reasons for yelling at him most of the time.

"I guess I do get into a lot of war-ts," he said, catching himself at the last second. Still, he hadn't done a good job of covering it up. Maybe, she didn't notice.

"What?"

" I mean- worrying situations," he corrected himself, hoping she bought it.

"Like what?" Lisa asked. Oh good, so long as she thought he was having problems, Lisa would ignore his weirdness.

"Usually, involves a girl or no good punks with firepower," he said.

"Guns Alfred? You shouldn't get involved with people like that." Great, why did he keep telling her these problematic things? It's not like she could fact check him.

"Oh no, it's not what you think. I wasn't talking about guns- more like firecrackers, yeah, that's it, firecrackers," he said. Well, if he counted Hong Kong, he wasn't technically lying.

" Alfred, you're making light of the situation again. I don't think you mean firecrackers at all."

"Relax, I get along with most of them, these days" Alfred said. Her hard stare didn't go away. For a minute, he didn't think she'd let it go, but she did. Lisa looked away.

"I'll take your word for it, for now," She said.

"Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself, honest," Alfred said.

"Perhaps, I have been reading too much into your words. I haven't known you very long," Lisa said.

"Actually, you're pretty easy to talk to. I wasn't planning on telling you that much," Alfred said. He would have to watch himself from revealing anything incriminating next time.

"Well, if you ever need to talk, I'm willing to listen," Lisa said, patting his knee and getting up. He guessed talking time was over

"Then, would you mind giving me your phone number?" Alfred said, before she left again. He didn't want to go on another wild good chase tracking her down. He handed her his phone, and she typed the number in.

"There," she said, giving him back his phone. Lisa didn't make a move to leave. She bit her lip and shoved her phone into his hand.

"Would you give me yours?" she asked. He smiled and obliged.

"No problem," he said, returning the phone. They just stood there for a while. Alfred waited for her to leave first. After a while, he realized that she was waiting for him to suggest something. Apparently, Lisa wasn't ready to part ways either.

"You wanna go to my place?" he asked. Looks like, Canada would have another reason to yell at him next time they talked. He never seemed to learn. America didn't care right this second. He was having a girl over.

Do me a favor and don't tell Canada or France?

* * *

_**I'm in a very good mood. By the way, check out Steven Colbert's talk with America after the winner was announced last night if you can find it, the talk is hilarious. **_


	10. This is New

This is new

Canada did not want to wake up this morning. He arrived late last night after driving like a maniac, and now, he was exhausted. Ugh, why had he rushed back anyway? America knew full well he was upset regardless of where he was. He could have driven home this morning and saved himself the trouble. Whatever, his drowsiness would pass in an hour or two. He pulled the blankets off and sighed. Why did America have to take what he said the wrong way? He never threw a fit when America talked to him. Okay, correction, he never threw a fit when America made a valid point.

He yawned, going downstairs to serve himself some breakfast. Kuma raised his head from the sofa's arm rest. Canada patted the bear's head on his way to the kitchen. Sitting down, he took a deep breath. Trying to pin point, why exactly he felt so relieved to be back. And, for Canada, it came down to one thing - quiet. Today, he wouldn't have to endure his brother's obnoxious laughter, England's griping, or the multitude of overlapping voices in the city, only Kuma's steady breathing and the wind blowing outside.

"So, how'd it go? " Kumajinzo asked after Canada took his first bite of cereal. He let go of the spoon and watched it submerge into the sea of milk and cereal. He wasn't that hungry anyway.

"America's mad at me ," he said. That pretty much summed up three quarters of the trip.

"Huh? Didn't you go to his place to apologize and make up?" Kumajiro said. Canada honestly didn't want to relive the fight just yet.

"Yeah, I did," Canada said, getting up to grab a fork. Maybe, he could fish the spoon out of the bowl without dipping his hand in there.

"And?" Kumalilo asked. Canada sat back down and managed to retrieve the fallen spoon with the fork, problem solved.

"And, he did some things I didn't approve of and I may have said some things he didn't want to hear," Canada said, eating the now soggy cereal. Maybe, he could have phrased things differently. It's not like the fight mattered now. The only thing left to do was let America cool off.

"Oh, so you talked too much" Kumamaji said, laying his head on the armrest again.

"What? No, he needed to hear what I said, or he might make the jump from well meaning oaf to evil brainwashing dictator," Canada said, waving his spoon in Kumamojo's general direction. The bear wasn't overly impressed. Kumajiro yawned and licked his paw.

"So that it? Why didn't you stay and apologize till he stopped being mad at you, like always?" Kumamijo asked. Canada almost dropped the spoon back into the bowl.

"This wasn't our first argument," he mumbled. The bear knew him too well.

"Great, now, you're going to be moody all week, and I'll get stuck with more canned tuna" Kumamomo huffed. Canada rolled his eyes. Ungrateful, little bear, he never did seem to remember he was under no obligation to feed him. He couldn't afford to get him gourmet quality food all the time.

"I fed you salmon when I came home last night," Canada said, or at least, he vaguely remembered going into the kitchen before heading to bed.

"No, you opened some tuna for me," Kumagumbo said, moving away from the armrest and burrowing into the sofa's cushions. Okay, so, he hadn't been all that awake when he came in. At least, he fed him something, right?

"You should have said so," Canada said. Kumanero immediately deserted his place on the sofa and decided to sit on his rump a few feet from him. Canada was sure the main reason Kuma left the sofa was to guilt trip him with his unnerving stare. It was working.

"I did. You chucked the can opener at me and went upstairs," Kumajeri said.

"I'm sorry. I'll get you some salmon after breakfast," Canada said. He owed him that much after taking his anger out on him.

"Good, I had to get my paws dirty getting my own food after you left," Kumajami complained, licking his paw for emphasis. Canada shook his head. He had only been gone three days to visit his brother and attend the wrap up meeting.

"Doesn't sound like such a bad thing," he muttered. It wouldn't kill Kumaleech to be more self sufficient. He was not as knowledgeable about spirts as England was, but he was ninety percent sure that Kuma didn't actually need to eat to exist.

"The other animals were mean to me,"Kumajojo said, pawing his pant leg. Canada adjusted his glasses and spared him a glance.

"Maybe, you shouldn't be such a smart mouth then," Canada said. Kumajinji hmphed.

"I'm starting to see why America kicked you out," Kuma said, acting like a damn traitor. Canada pushed the bowl aside. He was not the unreasonable one. His brother was the one trying to be "normal" and still get his way all the time. Why should he be penalized for being honest? Besides, the bear was an annoying smart alec. What did he know?

"He didn't kick me out. I left," Canada said, leaving it at that. _Let him screw up for all I care. _

"Maybe, I should leave too if you're going to be cranky," Kumajira said, starting to retreat into the living room.

"Don't be like that, I'll still feed you," Canada said. Kuma definitely knew he was a smart mouth. He didn't understand why he was getting so upset. Kuma's ears perked up._ And, he's mine. _

"The good stuff?" Kumajiro asked. Canada smiled and answered.

"Yes, the salmon" he said. The bear waited expectantly.

Canada looked down at the less than appealing mess left in the bowl. He sighed and took another bite, deciding not to waste perfectly good cereal, even if it was soggy.

"How long does it take to eat cereal?" Kumajiro asked. Really? He couldn't wait a few minutes?

"Do you ever stop talking?" he snapped at him.

"If I stopped talking, I would be pretty boring like the weirdo alien guy," Kumajiro said, tugging at his pant leg with his teeth. Canada's eye twitched. If he kept pulling, this would be the third pair of pants Kuma ruined by pulling at his pant leg.

"Please, let me eat in peace, okay?" he said. The bear released his pant leg and pouted.

"Fine, I'll be outside," Kumajiro said, leaving the kitchen and going through the bear door in the living room.

"That bear, if I didn't think I'd go insane without him, I'd ship him off to Siberia," he said.

"I heard that," Kumajiro said, poking his hear through the opening.

"Go outside already Kumajiro."

"Hey, you got my name right,"he piped up cheerfully. That's silly. He of all people wouldn't forget Kuma's name, especially when people forget his name all the time.

"Of course, I know your name Kumajami," he said. Kuma . . . something sighed.

"And, it's gone," the bear said.

"Well, your name's weird," Canada shouted. What had possessed him to name him that in the first place? He wouldn't be having this problem if his name was Snowy.

"Your name's weird," Kuma shouted. Canada narrowed his eyes. Was it his fault France had lousy hearing? No, no it wasn't.

"I'll get up and hit you with the hockey stick. You know I will," he threatened. Kuma pushed himself out the bear door.

"Okay, okay, I'm going," he said. Canada could vaguely hear Kuma's paws crush the soft snow outside. Of course, this was the exact same time he finished his cereal. Great, now, he was alone.

"Lousy bear, I'm glad he's gone," he muttered. The same thing went for his lousy brother too.

So, paint time had come again, sort of. He was trying something different and painting the walls white, basically, leaving him a giant blank canvas to work with. Tony interrupted him.

"What am I doing?" Alfred repeated absently. With Tony around, he felt like a parrot or a really bad psychiatrist for repeating every other word the alien said. By now, repeating everything he said was a force of habit, and it did save time when someone else was with him.

"What does it look like?" he said, holding up a crayon while tapping on the newly graffiti-ed surface. There were now a bunch of perfect little black circles on the corner of the wall. Tony tugged his pant leg and pointed at the wall. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"No, I don't have OCD," he said. The alien scratched his head and pointed at the wall again. He looked a little worried when Alfred continued to color the white wall with black crayon. His lips curled upward.

"I haven't really made much progress so Japan suggested that I try to find inner peace," America said, pausing briefly to massage his hand and encourage blood circulation in the area. Tony pointed to the wall again, specifically in the upper left corner where Alfred had started making marks.

"What does that have to do with all these circles? Nothing, the repetitive movement helps me think, and I was sick of brown," Alfred said with a shrug, not everything had profound meaning. Tony shook his head and sat on the couch.

"Yeah, yeah, I know I liked the colors yesterday," Alfred said, disregarding the comment. If he couldn't figure out a way to control it, he might as well accept his seemingly bipolar tendencies.

Tony didn't say anything more, and Alfred zoned out as he tried to cover the wall with as many perfect black circles as possible. Tony tugged his pant leg again. Alfred sighed and put away the black crayon stub. Tony probably wanted him to stop and play video games for a while.

"What is it now Tony?" he asked. Tony pointed at the door, and this time, he heard the light knocking. Alfred's breath hitched. Amy finally stopped by. Why else would anyone knock so softly? She was obviously embarrassed about their ugly fight.

"I'll go check. You hide," Alfred said. Tony retreated into the guest room, and Alfred eagerly opened the door.

"Hey Am-Lisa, I'm surprised you stopped by so soon" Alfred said, hiding his disappointment as best he could. He didn't want her to feel unwelcome, but he wished Amy still acknowledged his existence. He didn't think that was asking too much. Lisa didn't seem to notice his less than stellar mood.

"I thought I'd bring lunch," Lisa said, holding up a ton of containers. Alfred blinked. She'd brought him lunch? The last person to do that for him was . . . he really couldn't accept this.

"You didn't have to do that," Alfred said, not exactly saying no. He eyed the containers, trying to identify the contents. She'd caught him at a good time. Alfred hadn't eaten yet, and he had a very traitorous stomach.

"You can't keep living off ramen noodles and pizza," Lisa said, trying to hand him the containers. He didn't budge from the doorway.

"It's been working so far," Alfred said. She opened up one of the containers. He had a pretty good idea of where she was going with this.

"Really, I can tak- um" he started to say when she shoved some food into his mouth. The action was all too familiar.

"Taste," she said. He swallowed. Okay, so, she could actually cook.

"Pretty good," he said. She closed up the container.

"So, you'll eat it?" Lisa asked. So many containers, she cooked all that food for him. He couldn't turn her away, knowing that.

"Uh . . . I guess since you went to the trouble of making it," Alfred said. She look down at the containers she brought.

"You haven't eaten yet, have you? " Lisa said.

"No, I'm just wondering what brought this on," he said. All they had done last time is talk a little, he couldn't have left that much of an impression.

"Well, you said you had trouble sticking to diets so tada," she said, trying to hand him the containers again. He accepted them and let her in.

"Thanks, I appreciate the sentiment, but it's not like you can keep making my meals," Alfred said, getting plates from the kitchen.

"Actually, I wouldn't mind," Lisa said from behind him. He turned around.

"Please don't, I'd feel bad," he said. She took the plates from him.

"Nonsense, it's no trouble," she said, serving him some chicken and pasta.

"But," he said. More pasta made its way into his mouth. Why was it so freaking delicious?

"Mmhm, it does taste pretty good," he said.

" Sit," she said, gesturing to the seat next to her. He obliged.

"Boy, you don't take no for an answer," he said. She smiled, looking more than a little smug when he started stuffing his face.

"Not quite, but I feel you will benefit from my persistence," Lisa said.

"Can't you just let me get fat?" Alfred said in between bites. Lisa wiped her face with a napkin.

"Alfred, if you would rather not have dinner with me, please say so," she said.

"That's not exactly what I meant," Alfred said. He didn't want to inconvenience her, and maybe, he found her sudden interest in his life more than a little suspicious.

"Consider this a thank you for your company," Lisa said. Alfred put his fork down and eyed her seriously.

"This sudden interest in me wouldn't have anything to do with my poor choice of words yesterday would it?"

"Alfred, it is you who approached me."

"True, forget, I said anything," he said, digging into the chicken.

"However, if you do ever need someone to talk to, I am willing to listen," Lisa said. He laughed. They'd love it if he went insane.

"I don't need that kind of help," he said. Things would be much less complicated if he was out of his mind. He was all about thinking things through these days.

"I'm not saying you do, but some of the things you said did concern me," Lisa said. Alfred sighed. She wasn't going to let this go. He should really learn to shut up.

"Let's just say my normal is completely different from your normal," he said. She raised an eyebrow.

"How so?"

"When everyone is yelling, it's healthy. It's when we stop talking to each other that I worry," Alfred said. He hated quiet. Quiet meant resignation. Quiet led to plotting. Quiet meant the problem would never be solved.

"I see. So, yelling doesn't really have a negative connotation in your household," she said. He brightened, glad to see her getting it.

"Nope, it's like a giant debate most of the time, " he said.

"And the rest of the time?"she asked. Oh boy- the rest of the time, they argued like there was no tomorrow, and there was only room for one of them in oblivion.

"We bicker about our petty differences," he said.

"At least you're aware of it," she said, taking a sip of water.

"If I wasn't, I'd probably still go to family reunions," he said. As fun as they could be, he didn't miss the meetings much.

"You don't?"she said. Right, she would probably see that as a bad thing.

"No, they can come visit if they want, but I'm not going to deliberately trap myself in a room with a bunch of people that have a history of fighting each other incessantly," he said, even if he could tune most of it out.

"That seems reasonable," she said slowly.

"Still think I'm nuts?"he said cheerfully. The accusation was enough to make her blush- nice.

"I was worried about you, but I think I may have simply misunderstood your situation," she said, avoiding eye contact with him.

"It's okay. I know I didn't make myself clear," he said, and she seemed to relax.

"So when you said firepower," Lisa trailed off, waiting for him to fill the gaps. He stuck to his first response.

"I did mean firecrackers. My little brother likes setting them off near peoples feet," he said.

"He sounds like a very trying individual," she said.

"Yup, drove my dad nuts in the old days, luckily, he had mellowed out by then," he said although most of what he knew came from Canada's account of events.

"So, your father-" she started to say. He cut her off. No need to get into that mess.

"Pretends to be a British gentleman but has a nasty temper, there is nothing more to it than that," he said, getting some fruit salad.

" I see, if you say so," Lisa said, not saying anything more. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke up.

"I have a feeling you don't believe me."

"I never said that I didn't" Lisa said.

"Then, why are you quiet all of a sudden?" Alfred said. She smiled again and didn't answer.

"That wasn't an invitation to go mute," he said. She rose and took the empty plates to the kitchen. He followed her.

"No, that's okay. I'll wash the dishes." She shook her head and started washing the plates. He didn't really want to wrestle the plates out of her hands. So, he stood there and watched. She handed him a wet plate and he dried it. This continued until everything was put away. They left the kitchen and sat in the living room. Just like before, Lisa didn't try to make small talk. She didn't comment on the new paint job, or the sudden disappearance of his Legos and hot wheel sets. Truthfully, he had just stuck them in the closet.

"My questions make you uncomfortable. I know that I can be forceful, and I did not want to push you away,"she admitted finally. Oh, he hadn't thought of that.

"Wow," he said , shaking his head. She frowned, crossing her arms.

"What now?"

"It's a good wow, " he said, turning on the tv. She quickly turned it off.

"What kind of wow?" she asked.

"I wowed because I'm the same way," he said.

"I doubt that," she said. If she only knew . . .

"Trust me, I am ten times worse than you can ever be," he said, trying to turn the tv on again. She yanked the remote out of his hand.

"Again, I sincerely doubt it," she said.

"Do you see anyone else around?"he asked.

"Are you suggesting that you have no one?" she asked, and he nodded before pausing.

"Does an angry Canadian count?"

"What?" Lisa asked.

"Never mind."

"Well, I'll definitely be sticking around, "she said.

"Don't feel obligated to put up with me, feel free to jump ship at any time," he said, not bothering to try and take the remote anymore. She turned on the tv and changed it to the food network.

"There is no such thing as a lost cause, Alfred." He was starting to see how she managed to turn France around. Which made him wonder, what exactly was wrong with him? Ah well, he didn't mind the company.

_**I'm alive. I simply have been preoccupied with other things. **_


	11. Let Me Tell You a Secret

Let Me Tell You a Secret

Sunday morning started off promising. He woke up early to work on another piece of his wall. After using up all the black crayons he had in his possession yesterday, one wall was now completely covered in small circles. All together, they created a large black void that he wasn't sure he liked. He decided to counter act the absence of color by making the adjacent wall rainbowy. Or, he was going to before he perused through his mail. Russia had sent him a bottle of vodka. He looked around, wondering if this was some sort of sick joke. Everyone knew not to gift him alcohol after his (cough) problems in the roaring twenties. Unless . . . it had never come up because he and Russia had never been close before.

Okay, he could handle this. America went to bars with the other countries all the time. He had managed to restrain himself then . . . but he hadn't been left alone with a bottle of alcohol in a really long time. He took a deep breath. The important thing was not to panic and do something rash. All he had to do was chuck it and explain to Russia why he couldn't have alcohol next time he saw him. The trash was right there, literally, three feet from him. It was no trouble at all to throw it away.

Then, again, it was a gift, and there was no one there to tell him no. He double checked the apartment before remembering his fight with Canada. Right, there was zero chance of Matthew stopping by, and Tony wouldn't get here until the afternoon. He unscrewed the top and took a swig. Holy hell, he forgot how much vodka burned.

Needless to say, when Tony found him, he had already consumed a large amount of vodka. Tony ignored him and continued to guzzle his soda. Similarly, Alfred lounged about on the couch and continued to drink. Tony pointed to the vodka bottle on his lap.

"Mhm? Where did I get the alcohol? Russia sent it," America said, taking another swig of vodka. He'd bought the good stuff. It didn't particularly taste like anything. Tony put the can down and glanced at the map.

"Yeah, I meant to say Ivan," Alfred said with a yawn. Tony made a move to grab the bottle. He sluggishly held it out of the alien's reach.

"Correction, the bottle's half full," Alfred said, managing another swig. Ah, he liked the warm feeling. Tony crossed his arms and tapped his foot.

"No, I haven't had enough," he whined, annoyed when Tony easily outmaneuvered him and grabbed the bottle. He was pretty sure it was the alcohol's fault. Normally, he had the advantage in these situations.

"Give me back the bottle," Alfred said, only swiping at air. Tony shook his head, pointing at the bottle and then at Alfred.

"I am not drunk. I don't get drunk," Alfred said. This time, he recognized Lisa's light knocking.

"Oh, Lisa's at the door," Alfred said, managing to pull himself up after several tries. Man, that took forever, he should lay off the burgers, the fattening ninety-nine cent cheese burgers that he could get on his way to class, no problem. Yeah, that wasn't happening. Tony pushed him back down. What the hell? Did he not see how long it took him to get up?

"I need to open the door," he said. Tony shook his head again.

"I'm not going to ignore her," Alfred said. He pointed to America on the map and back at Alfred. Finally, he pointed to the door.

"Pfft, I'm not going to blab," Alfred said, unsure why he started laughing. Tony face palmed and pointed at the map and then, the door again.

"When would it ever come up that I'm a country?" Alfred said, getting up and pushing past Tony. He might be a little tipsy, but Alfred was still stronger than the alien. Tony backed off when Alfred made it to the door. He didn't want to be exposed any more than Alfred did.

"Go hide. Go hide," Alfred said, shooing the alien away. Tony flipped him off before marching into the guest room and slamming door.

" I'll show you. I'm perfectly fine, stupid alien," Alfred shouted. Alien said the two words normally reserved for England.

"Fuck you."

Oh, they were so going to have a talk later. He opened the door wide. When he saw her, he lifted her up in the air, food containers and all. She froze up like a rag doll cat.

"Hey Joan," he said. She didn't answer. He heard his phone ping. Oh, someone sent him a text. He put her down, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Wait, I have to check my messages," Alfred said, fumbling for his phone. After a little difficulty, he managed to get it out of his pocket. He flipped the phone open and read the text.

"Her name is Lisa, dumb ass. Well, that was rude," Alfred said, shoving the phone back in his pocket - what a waste of time.

"Is everything okay?" Joan asked, keeping her distance.

"Fine, fine, why you here?" Alfred said.

"You don't seem to be all there," she said, eyeing him with some apprehension. Why? He leaned forward. She cringed.

"I am here," Alfred said. She put a hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe, you should lie down." Joan guided him back to the couch. Whatever, he would probably fall by himself.

"Fine, fine."

"I brought dinner," she said. He knew what food would do to him at this point.

"I'm kind of full of vodka," Alfred admitted.

"I noticed."

"You don't have to stay," he said.

"No, it's fine. Do you usually get drunk?" she asked. What was she talking about? He was perfectly coherent.

"I'm not drunk."

"If you say so," she said, putting a blanket over him. Alfred made a sour face. He wasn't a baby.

"Stop that, you don't believe a word I say," he said, throwing the blanket off him. She sighed.

"I'm not going to argue with you."

"Fine, don't play then," Alfred mumbled. She checked his forehead.

" Is everything okay?"

"You said that already," Alfred said, pushing her hand away.

"Did something happen?" she asked. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Something always happens."

"Did something bad happen?" she clarified. He couldn't think of anything. Alfred shrugged.

"No more than usual."

"Then, why are you drunk?" she asked.

"The bottle was there, and I didn't have anything better to do."

She frowned. Apparently, he'd said the wrong thing.

"That's not a good reason."

"I'm not a good person," Alfred said. She ignored him, pushing him down. He let her.

"Try to rest," Joan said. He shook his head.

"Can't."

"Why?"she asked, putting the blanket over him. He yawned again.

"Too tired," he murmured.

"I should go," she said, patting his shoulder. He latched onto her outstretched arm. She couldn't leave.

"No, you won't come back. Then, I'll start talking to myself and end up like Arthur," he said. He didn't want to end up alone. Joan turned around and crouched down to meet his eyes.

"Is this about your father?"she asked. He rolled over so his back was facing her.

"Why does everyone say that?"

"Never mind, I shouldn't pry," Joan said. He still hadn't let go of her hand.

"No, that's okay. I don't mind. You want to know about Arthur?" he asked. She fixed his hair. Alfred really hated that. He couldn't remember why.

"I think you'll regret telling me," she said, subtly moving away from him. He squeezed her hand.

"No, you're perfect. " It had the effect he wanted. She blushed.

"You're drunk." He pulled her closer.

"That doesn't change the first one." She sighed again.

" You're definitely your father's son." That tripped him up. Arthur didn't flirt.

"Arthur doesn't admit things," he said. She frowned.

"You don't consider Francis your father do you?" she asked. Francis ? Francis? France? Oh right, that guy, how could he forget . . . that guy with the . . . beret. That's it. Wait. Did France even wear a beret? Maybe, he'd drank a little more than he should have.

"Francis? He's okay."

"Hmm, very well," she said.

"Hey, can you take the bottle away from the alien?" he asked. She probably had the upper body strength and coordination to do it. She did that giggle snort thing.

"You say the craziest things." The phone pinged again.

"Hold on. I just got another text. Don't mention me, idiot," he said. She didn't make the connection. Instead, she made him scoot over so she fit on the couch. He didn't mind so long as she didn't leave.

"Perhaps, you'd like to see some television," Joan offered. He confiscated the remote. No, he would not watch television this close to election time.

"No, I need to start boycotting tv. The commercials start soon."

"What commercials?" she asked.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" she asked.

"How do you find inner peace? I tried that meditation thingy, and I just kept hearing a bunch of jingles in my head," Alfred asked.

"Jingles?" she repeated. Huh, she must not know either.

"Yeah, you know, like the best part of waking up is Folgers in your cup, or give me a break, give me a break, break me off a piece of that Kit Kat bar," Alfred said, snapping his fingers to the Kit Kat beat.

"It sounds to me like you need to clear your mind," she said.

"But that's hard. How am I supposed to keep up with everything if I do that?" he asked.

"Have you considered slowing down?"

"Great, that again, slow down Alfred, I'm not even out of college yet," Alfred said, using a high pitched girly voice.

"Excuse me? I don't understand."

" Why can't everyone just live forever? That'd solve half my problems." Alfred said, holding her tightly and burying his face in her shoulder. Again, she froze, surprised by the contact. Eventually, she wrapped her arms around him and accepted the contact.

"And create entirely new ones," she said, patting his back.

" But I love new things," he mumbled. Wouldn't it be nice to tackle a new problem once in a while? Didn't anyone else ever get bored? Or was he just defective?

"Would you mind telling me what's on your mind? Maybe, I could help," she said, gently pushing him away. He released her and let himself collapse into the couch's depths.

"You probably could, but I can't tell you,"America said.

" Why not?" she asked. He smiled, putting a finger to his lips.

"It's a secret."

"Tell me anyway," Joan whispered into his ear, reminding him of a completely different blond for a minute. He took her hand experimentally. She didn't pull away. Maybe . . . maybe, she would understand.

"I'm pretending to be something I'm not," he said. She didn't react at first. Then, she laughed and slapped his shoulder.

"Who are you then if you are not Alfred F. Jones?"

"I'm America." She continued to smile as if he'd told some funny joke. The smile left quickly when she realized he wasn't trying to be funny. For a split second, she looked completely dumbfounded. Finally, she took a deep breath and kissed his forehead.

"Go to bed. You're tired."

"See. You never believe me. Can't keep an open mind about anything, can ya?" he asked, extremely frustrated. He was not a child.

"I can keep an open mind, but I'm not going to believe everything I hear either," Joan said.

"I'm telling you the truth. I've been telling you the truth this whole time," Sadly, he wasn't lying. Okay, so, maybe, he'd mislead her a little bit, but he was America, or at least, he used to be.

"Alfred," she started to say. Again, his phone pinged.

"Hold on. I need to check this. Stop giving yourself away, asshole and don't read this out loud. Oops," he said. She peeked over his shoulder.

"Who keeps sending you messages?"

"Tony, my alien," he replied easily. Alfred heard Tony cursing in the guest room. Oh well, it's not like she'd ever believe him. Joan rubbed her forehead. He was giving her a headache.

"I'm going to go, " she said, attempting to get up. Unfortunately for her, he wasn't about to let go of her hand, and his previous casual hold had developed into a vice grip the minute she mentioned leaving.

"Please don't. You won't come back."Alfred said. Instead of backing down, she attempted to pull herself free.

"I will come back when you start making more sense," she said, looking absolutely amazed when he managed to hold her in place with little effort. He grinned. She probably wasn't used to being over powered. He pulled her forward, and she landed neatly on the couch.

"I can't stay. I feel like I've overstepped my boundaries, staying as long as I have." He laughed. Joan wanted to leave because she thought he was bat shit crazy not because she wanted to give him some privacy. That flew out the window the minute she sat down next to him. Silly polite Joan, she wasn't going anywhere.

"But you're Joan. You're good at this stuff," he said, wrapping his arms around her. He made sure to pin her arms under his and bundle her hands in his own. She stiffened but didn't struggle. He wondered if it was instinctual. He could easily crush her ribs if he wasn't careful.

"My name is Lisa,"she said quietly. Alfred hesitated. It sounded familiar. He fingered the cross on her neck. No, she was definitely Joan.

"Psht, and my name is Alfred Jones." She grit her teeth.

"It is."

"You've only known me for three days, lady," he said. At least, Amy had the sense to think he might be an ax murder. Hmm . . . he could hear her breathing quicken. She was nervous.

"Alfred, let me go. You're scaring me."

"You don't get scared, unless you're on fire I guess." She flinched. It struck a nerve. She probably didn't know why.

"If you do not unhand me, I guarantee you I won't come back," she hissed. Alfred let go of her instantly. He didn't want that. She stood abruptly, getting as far from him as possible. She neglected to grab her things and made a mad dash for the door. He followed her. He couldn't have her freaking out on him. She wouldn't come back.

"Don't go." He seized her hand just as she reached the door. She stopped, perfectly aware he could drag her back to the couch if he wanted to.

"Alfred, let go of my hand."

"Say, you're not mad," Again, she grit her teeth, holding her temper.

"I'm not mad," She didn't mean that. Joan wanted to bolt with every fiber of her being, but she hesitated. Hand tentatively on the door knob, she turned around.

"Has . . . this happened before?" she asked.

"People always leave," he said. Arthur, Canada, Texas, Amy, it was only a matter of time.

"Who?" He started with the first one.

"Arthur, when I was little and-"

"For how long?" she asked.

"Months, he didn't want to go but-"

"Was someone else there with you?"

"No, not really, maybe once, I don't remember," he said. The beginning was really fuzzy. Joan nodded. He wasn't sure she believe him. She put both of her hands on his shoulders and looked at him with a single minded determination. _I'm going to fix you. _

"I'm going to go, but I will come back. Do you understand?"she asked.

"You're not mad?" Joan narrowed her eyes.

"You keep saying that. Why?"

"People don't come back when they're mad," Unless, you sent an army after them.

"I'm not mad. Please, don't drink again okay?" she said, patting his cheek with her free hand. He blinked stupidly.

"But I still have half a bottle left."

"Alfred" she shouted. He winced about to defend himself when his phone pinged. What did Tony want now? He checked the message.

"No, you don't. Damn alien," he muttered.

"Good night Alfred," she said, managing to pry his hand away. Alfred wasn't trying very hard to hold on. He didn't want her to be mad anymore.

"Good night Joan." She sighed. What did he do now?

"It's Lisa." He smiled. She wanted to play.

"And, I'm America." She ignored him.

"Will you be okay on your own?"

"I'm always okay on my own." he said cheerfully. Joan didn't seem to want to humor him anymore.

"Good."

"Bye Joan." She stopped in her tracks. Which was strange, considering, she couldn't get out of here fast enough a minute ago. She turned around and pointed to herself.

"Li-sa." Alfred smirked. She didn't know who she was messing with.

"A-me-ri-ca," he said, pointing to himself. She stomped her foot.

"No, no, you're not. By god, Alfred, I knew there was something wrong with you, but I did not think you'd be this insane," she yelled. Ouch, Joan really meant that.

"From what I hear, I'm not the insane one," he said, regretting it the minute he said it. Her eyes started to water.

"I'm not crazy." she said softly. America had a sinking feeling if he let her leave now she would never come back. So, he did something he wasn't proud of. He ratted out Arthur.

"My dad used to lock my younger siblings in the closet."

She took the bait : hook line and sinker.

" I suppose it wouldn't hurt to stay a little longer," Joan said, coming back inside.

Joan took charge after that. He was told to empty his pockets in case he had any alcohol left. When she found none, she told him to sit on the couch. Alfred let her wrap him in the blanket without complaint, and gladly, accepted the coffee she brought a few minutes later. After that, she sat next to him and seriously looked him over.

" Tell me more about your father." He sipped his coffee.

"He's a British bastard," he said in a noncommittal fashion.

"You already told me that," she said.

"It warrants repeating," Alfred said, deciding to play mute after that. She might stop asking him to say things. She sighed.

" If you don't want to, you don't have to do this. This is my fault for staying and edging you on when you clearly have a drinking problem."

"I have lots of problems, but drinking isn't one of them," America said although it did create complications from time to time, like now. She hugged herself, looking thoroughly unsettled by what happened a few minutes ago. He avoided looking at her. The awkward silence set in.

"And what would those be?"she asked, out of the blue.

" I'm not going to tell you about them." He'd made enough of an ass of himself for one day.

"Why not?"

"Because you're human. You can't help me," America said. It was out in the open. He might as well own up to it. A dark look crossed Joan's face. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He'd unlocked her inner rage, the England ass kicking rage.

"Let's say for a second. I believe you."

"Oh good, you're coming around." She put a finger to his lips.

"No, this is all hypothetical," she corrected him. He nodded, and she removed her finger.

"By saying I can't help you, doesn't it go against everything you stand for?" she asked. Damn, she had a point.

"Okay, so, maybe, you can help me," he admitted.

" Tell me, why you are being self destructive," she said, smooshing his cheeks together. Blah, she was treating him like a baby again which was still, better than being on the receiving end of her glare.

"Honestly, I've had issues with drinking since the prohibition," he confessed. They hit another road block. Actually, it was the same one they've been having. She didn't believe he was America

"You're kidding."

"No, I still know how to make my own alcohol," He smiled at her, trying to lighten the mood. She didn't smile back. Joan crossed her arms defensively.

"You're sticking to the you're America story."

"Yup because it's true." She raised an eyebrow.

"And I'm Joan of Arc." America slapped her on the back.

"Now, you're getting it."

"You're delusional," she snapped at him. For some reason, it hurt worse than when Arthur snapped at him. Probably because he was sure Joan meant what she said. Alfred didn't want her to think he was crazy

"Is that what you want to believe?"

"I want the truth," Joan said.

"I don't know what to do with myself anymore. Nothing matters," America said, reaching deep down into the sorry, empty pit that had been plaguing him for some time now. She shook her head, looking at him skeptically.

"Alfred, you don't honestly believe that."

"Alfred doesn't I guess. I haven't really decided yet," America said, feeling the tiniest bit psychotic phrasing it that way.

"You are Alfred." America chuckled. What did he have to do? Call Obama to vouch for him before she believed him?

"You still don't get it. I thought you'd catch on quicker," he said.

"Listen for a minute," she said.

"Yes, Joan?"

"I'm Lisa." He shrugged.

"You can think that if you want."

"Alfred, you may feel overwhelmed right now, but it will pass. Do not do anything you will regret later."

"I don't feel overwhelmed. I feel nothing," He really didn't. He wasn't at peace, but he wasn't at war either. Literally, there was nothing there.

"Nothing?" she asked to make sure. Cute, she didn't believe him now either. He'd just have to learn to accept that.

"Yup."

"Do you care for me?" Of course, he did

"That's cheating. You don't count,"he mumbled. Those feelings were fleeting and fickle.

"Why not?"

"You won't last. You'll die someday." America might as well get this conversation out of the way too. Joan's mouth hung open, completely speechless. She recovered and started to stammer.

"That's a very cynical way to look at it." He swallowed the rest of his coffee whole. He needed to sober up quickly, a lot of warning bells were going off in his head.

"After a while, it's a conclusion you're forced to accept," he said. She punched his shoulder.

"Alfred stop worrying about something you can't control." He smiled. It was kind of his job to worry about things he couldn't control.

"I'm not worried. I just know it will happen." This was different from worrying. The feeling was more like going to sleep knowing you wouldn't have cereal for breakfast because you ran out. It was an inevitable fact.

"That's still a long ways away," she offered. Right, she thinks a year is a long time. They were like seconds to him. He wouldn't remember most of the details in another few decades.

"For you maybe."

"Wouldn't you rather enjoy the present than worry about the future?" Joan said, taking hold of his hand like he needed a life line. America appreciated the small comfort.

"I tried that once, then, the depression happened," No one could say things had gotten that bad yet. He didn't want things to get that bad ever again. It had taken a war to snap him out of his funk.

"You're Alfred, not America," Lisa said. Alfred- America- Al- Ally, what did it matter?

" Is that what you want?"Alfred asked.

"What?"

"Would you like me to stop being America?" He wasn't supposed to be thinking that way anyway. He'd slipped, stupid vodka. Joan breathed a sigh of relief and hugged him. Alfred accepted the hug but didn't hug back. He hadn't really expected to be forgiven right away. It made him feel crummy.

"Yes, please." How could he say no to that? He pushed the rim of his glasses back up.

"Okay, then, I'm fine." She looked up at him.

"Alfred, that's not what I meant." He pushed her off of him.

"Don't worry about me. At most, I'll have a headache in the morning. Thanks for the coffee." He stood, at this point heavily aware of what all he'd done. Frankly, they did need some time apart after that.

"Al-"

"I'd like you to leave." She stood there, wringing her hands together. He frowned. Why would she want to stay? Lisa opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it and kept her response brief.

"Very well, feel better Alfred."_ Yell at me damn it. _He nodded.

"Goody bye Lisa," _Don't hate me, tomorrow._ She smiled at him. Alfred looked away. He didn't deserve her forgiveness.

"Hey, you finally stopped calling me Joan." His cheeks heated up.

"Erm, sorry about that."

"Think nothing of it, I'm flattered you think I'm anything like the Maid of Orleans. I'll see you tomorrow," she said, giving his hand one last squeeze before letting go

"I didn't scare you off?"he asked. Most girls would have called the psychiatric ward or at least pepper sprayed him. She wanted to come back. He shook his head, a small smile creeping up on him. Maybe, she was crazy or a saint.

"I don't scare off easy," she said, punching him in the shoulder. He rubbed his arm out of habit.

"I'm glad."

"Stay out of trouble," she said, grabbing her book bag but leaving the containers of food, presumably for him to eat later. He felt another pang of guilt strike. She'd come to feed him, and he'd held her hostage.

"I will." He better, especially after he'd let this fiasco happen. Alfred watched her go and closed the door shortly after she made it to her car okay. He plopped onto the couch, not dodging when Tony come out of the guest room and chucked his empty soda can at him.

"That was a close one," he said, stretching and trying to relax. Lisa probably thought he was crazy, but she would come picked up the can and threw it at him again. This time Alfred sat up and caught the can.

"Yeah, Tony, I know you tried to warn me," he said, rubbing his forehead. He felt a headache coming on, and he had class tomorrow, bleh. He pointed to the map.

"Yes, you were right," Alfred had blurted out his identity the minute she showed the slightest interest. Yup, it was a good thing that he wasn't privy to sensitive information often.

"I know I shouldn't have drunk so much," he said, yawning. Sleep sounded like a very good idea right now. He laid down and closed his eyes. Tony hit him with the can again. He picked up the can and crushed it flat. He didn't need this right now.

"Are you going to nag me all night?" Tony pointed to Alfred's bedroom. That did make more sense than sleeping on the couch.

"Yeah, I'm turning in," Alfred said, getting up. Tony blocked his path, arms crossed.

"And Tony-" The alien looked up at him wearily.

"Thanks for trying,"he said, throwing the crushed can into the trash bin. He didn't turn around to see Tony's response. He was sure the alien was saying what he always said when he bothered to say anything at all.


	12. You're Empty

You're Empty

After all the yelling, unnecessary drama, and nonsensical solutions, Arthur came home to find a giant stack of paper work on his desk, joy. He took off his coat, put away his umbrella, and dived right in. Four days later, he was starting to get a minor head ache.

"Yes, I know people want housing. Demand far outweighs supply unfortunately," England said, trying his best to look over the numbers and talk at the same time.

"I am aware of the many proposed solutions. I've yet to see any signs of progress," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Of course, Price is always an issue, and social housing is creating problems in of itself, " England said with a sigh.

"Alright, we'll look into further development and subsidies later. I have another call," England said, hanging up. He checked the number. Great, he'd been gone for less than a week, and Alfred was already calling him. At least, he'd remembered the time difference this time.

"What do you want?"he said sourly.

" Hey, I was kind of hoping to get your opinion on something," Alfred said. Arthur arched an eyebrow, dreadfully curious. Could he be over his wanting to be human stint or was the memory situation worse than Prussia had claimed?

"You actually want my advice?" he asked, stifling a yawn. He was so bloody tired. He took a sip of his green tea, hoping it would keep him awake for a few more hours.

"If you don't want to hear it,"Alfred said, not sounding at all like his usual confident self. England frowned. There was definitely something on.

"No, go ahead," he said, straightening up in his chair. This should be good. It would probably make a good story to tell at the pub.

"I got drunk and said things I shouldn't have," Alfred mumbled. England stared at the phone incredulously. That was it?

"Please tell me there's more to this story. Otherwise, this is a complete waste of my time." England said, ready to hang up. Alfred sighed, and Arthur could hear the faint sounds of a pencil scratching.

"I'm getting to it," he said, still oddly hushed. Whatever the problem was, big or small, it had impacted him greatly. And for Arthur, his melancholy response was reason enough to listen.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, keep going," he said, helping himself to one of the biscuits they had left for him this morning.

"I told Lisa I was America and she didn't believe me." England nearly choked on the biscuit. Okay, no need to panic. As long as he didn't do anything suspicious in the next few days, nothing would come of it. He took a deep breath and tried his best to be . . . what was the word? Supportive, yes, that was it.

" Isn't that a good thing?" he said, trying his best not to yell. The matter had to be handled delicately, and it had been a long time since yelling had any effect on America.

"I thought so . . . at first." Oh no, he's getting ideas.

"No, no, no, always listen to that first instinct," England said, gripping the phone tightly.

"But, the thing is it made me feel horrible, and I don't know why," Alfred said, and it finally clicked. The stupid git's ego had been bruised.

"The reason is simple. She didn't believe you, and some primitive part of you took that as a rejection. What you are feeling will pass," England said, stretching and feeling an odd satisfaction when he heard things start to pop.

"I guess so. Anyway, I was wondering if you ever told anyone your secret?" America asked, and this time England nearly spit out his tea. There had been times when he told people who he was without hesitation, but that was long before the internet. One couldn't just say such a thing to a person anymore. You could be telling hundreds, and those hundreds would tell millions and so on and so forth. With that in mind, England decided to lie.

"Only important officials and the like." He could hear America sigh on the other end.

"I thought so. It was a stupid of me to blab anyway."

"Don't beat yourself up about it. What's done is done, the important thing is you don't repeat the same mistakes," he said, looking outside the window. Arthur wouldn't mind taking a walk after being cooped up all day.

"I can't get over it," Alfred said.

"You'll learn," he said, putting on his coat. No one said he couldn't multitask.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to know something that someone else will never accept, no matter what?" America asked. England stopped short of the door. He had to be kidding.

"Oh, I don't know. Do you believe in magic yet?" he asked, opening the door and stepping outside.

"That's different. You're crazy," America said flatly.

"I'm very disappointed in you," England said.

"When aren't you?" he asked. Arthur rolled his eyes. He doubted Alfred honestly believed that.

"Is that all, Alfred?"

"Yeah, I don't think you could help me with the other thing." Arthur's interest in the conversation piqued.

"What other thing?"

The only thing he heard was the dial tone on the other end. Blast it all.

Canada's day had been uneventful. Frankly, he wouldn't remember what all he did today a month from now, but that was okay. He crocheted a new sweater for Kuma to wear on Christmas eve. He took care of some things he had been neglecting to fix, like the leaky faucet and loose floor board. And best of all, he could now watch his hockey game with no interruptions. The phone rang. Canada chucked the phone clear across the room. Of course, America wanted to talk when he was busy. Well, Alfred could wait.

Kuma noticed and retrieved the phone, leaving it on his lap. Matthew stared at the completely undamaged phone as if it'd been cursed. No, the cosmos wasn't going to let him have this one. Matthew picked up the phone and answered, hoping the conversation would end quickly.

" He drank vodka and got super drunk. You're joking," Canada said, muting the tv. The situation must be serious if Tony was calling. The alien simply answered yes.

" But, he goes to bars all the time and doesn't get that drunk. Well, except those couple of times with Russia and me that he doesn't remember." Canada didn't think he needed to worry about this sort of thing anymore. America hadn't willingly gotten that drunk since before the great depression.

"Ivan sent him the vodka. That would explain it. Thanks Tony, I'll talk to him," Canada said, deciding to tackle the root of the problem first, his supplier. He took a deep breath and collect himself.

"Here goes nothing." Canada dialed Russia's number and prepared to yell like he never yelled before. Russia needed to know he was dead serious about the alcohol issue.

"You gave him alcohol?" The violin on the other end caught Canada off guard. He must have interrupted Russia in the middle of practice. He could hear Russia quickly open the violin's case and put away the instrument before answering.

"That depends, who is this?" Russia asked. He blanched, not expecting Russia's reaction. He didn't recognize his voice? Canada hoped it wasn't because he yelled.

"It's Canada," he said, losing some of his initial steam.

"Ah yes, Canada, what a pleasure to hear from you. Why are you calling?"

"How could you give Alfred alcohol? You know how he gets. You've drank with him before, " he said, lowering his tone to fit Russia's nonchalant responses.

"Yes, Russia has. What of it?" Canada blinked, slowly realizing he'd made a miscalculation. Russia had no idea what he'd done.

"America has a drinking problem. He falls off the wagon if he's left alone with a bottle," he said. Russia cursed quietly on the other end. He couldn't quite make out the Russian.

"How was Russia supposed to know that Alfred's a recovering alcoholic? Vodka is Russia's go to happy present."

"I was afraid of that," Canada said as he considered moving on to step two - confrontation. He wondered what he would come across when he visited America again.

"I'm sorry for the trouble,"Russia said, slipping out of he third person briefly. Canada would have made some sarcastic remark, but he did seem sorry.

"Don't worry about it. I'll do damage control. Just don't send him anymore alcohol, okay?"he asked. He didn't think he was being a push over exactly. It's why he called in the first place.

"Of course, less expensive for Russia," he remarked idly.

"Thanks for clearing everything up" Canada said, breathing a sigh of relief. The conversation wasn't nearly as daunting as he'd made it out to be in his head.

"Good luck, Canada, Alfred is a mean drunk. He says very hurtful things, and you're not thick skinned like Russia."

"Thanks, but I can take care of myself." He felt that he had proven that early on. Besides, he had made America cry, not the other way around and this was when America was completely sober.

"You keep telling yourself that Canada." Matthew decided to let it go. He was missing his hockey game.

"Bye Russia."

No Amy in Chemistry today, or at least, he didn't see her. The professor had stopped calling on him after the fifth time he didn't know the answer. He couldn't make himself concentrate. So, it had been a relief to go back to his apartment until he remembered that he would be dining alone today. He took out his cell phone. Maybe, Lisa had called. No messages. Alfred sighed.

America was having a tough time figuring out how worried he should be. Lisa had not been upset when she left. She had not yelled or cried, although she had come close. There was one thing that gave him hope. Lisa had left her containers with him so she would have to come back eventually. He held up one of the containers and narrowed his eyes. Maybe, that was what she wanted him to believe. Containers could be replaced. He sent her a text.

_ I'm sorry. I wasn't myself. Are you mad?_

_Al_

The phone pinged. Alfred perked up. He hadn't expected her to respond right away. Alfred immediately opened the text, smashing the enter key harder than he should.

_I forgive you_

_ Lisa _

He stared at the message in disbelief. But . . . she was supposed to yell at him.

_Why? I held you hostage. Most people wouldn't come back._

_ Al_

He frowned when she didn't answer right away. Maybe, she didn't know either, but he did. He was the United States of flippin America. So, she was putting up with way more than any normal person should.

_ I'm not most people. And, I wouldn't be much of a friend if I abandoned you when you're clearly lonely. I will see you at dinner. _

_ TTYL, Lisa_

Alfred shoved the phone into his pocket as if it had burned him. Lonely, she had called him lonely. He wasn't lonely because he was alone. Alfred wasn't . . . Lonely. He stared at the black mess of crayon on the wall. Okay, he did have a little too much free time on his hands. He called up, Candi. It was time to cash in on that cookie offer.

"Hey, Canada, I wasn't expecting you like ever," he said, shoving a cookie into his mouth. She had made enough for a whole auditorium of people, and he had been given a generous amount of left overs.

"We never fight for that long-anymore," he said, hands in his pockets. Alfred looked him over. Yup, this wasn't I want to stop fighting Canada. This was I am only here because I have to be, Canada.

"Well, I forgive you, come on in," he said, ushering him inside. He might as well see what this whole thing was about.

"Hold on, I stand by what I said," Canada said. He stopped and turned around, hands on his hips.

"Fine, then, I begrudgingly accept we have differing opinions." Alfred said, trying his best not to sound sarcastic. He didn't feel like dragging this out any longer. Matthew's eyes widened.

"Really, you're letting it go?"

"I didn't like how you said it, but you had a point. Amy hasn't stopped by since you last came," Alfred admitted. Add that to the situation with Lisa and Alfred was really reevaluating how he handled all his relationships, friend or otherwise.

"I'm sorry. Is that why you started drinking again?" he asked. Alfred froze. And, There is was.

"So, that's why you're really here," he said, forcing himself to relax. He didn't have a problem now that the alcohol was gone. No need to add incentive for Canada to stick around when he didn't need him to.

"Tony wanted me to check on you,"Canada said. Alfred frowned. He had confiscated Tony's phone.

"How did he?" He faced palmed. Tony's technology was way more advanced than theirs. He could have easily made a new one. Sure, take away the phone, that will solve the problem, stupid.

"You called Canada on me? I told you it was a one time thing," he shouted in the direction of the guest room. Tony didn't answer. Whatever, they were going to have a talk about this later. Man, Alfred had way too many talks with Tony's scheduled. He should really get on that.

"Anyway, come on in, you can check, but you're not going to find anything," he said, trying his best to remain expressionless.

"Empty your pockets,"Canada said. Alfred cooperated, and the only thing Canada found was his wallet and keys.

"Happy?"

"Yes," Canada said, sitting down on the couch. Apparently, he wasn't worried enough to search his apartment - good. He sat next to him.

"How have you been holding up? Make any new friends?" he asked. Alfred considered telling him about Lisa. He didn't see the harm so long as he omitted anything that would make Matthew worry.

"I think it's time I told you. Lisa and I have been hanging out for a while now," he said, taking another cookie from the plate and helping himself to some milk. He missed making Christmas runs with Finland. Tino was watching his weight so he always let him have the milk and cookies.

"Does France know?" Canada asked. Alfred put the milk down and wiped his face with his sleeve.

"No and I expect you not to be a tattletale," he said, very aware where Matthew's loyalty was likely to fall in this situation. Canada put his hands up in surrender.

"Hey, if you want to keep this quiet, I won't tell. So what do you even do?" he said, about to reach for a cookie without asking. Alfred slapped his hand away. Matthew withdrew, cradling his hand.

"Talk mostly," he said, offering the plate of cookies to Matthew now that he had made his point. Matthew didn't take any, the big baby.

"About what?"

" The usual, books, movies, how things are going, and um . . . about some of my issues," he said, trying his best to down play it. Matthew raised an eyebrow.

"So you see each other and talk about your feelings?"

"Yeah, sometimes, she'll get something out of me," Alfred said. Matthew nodded and picked up a cookie. He didn't slap his hand away this time.

"Huh, okay then, I'm glad you've found a new friend," Matthew said, surprisingly calm about the whole thing. Something was up. He was smiling too much, and it had nothing to do with the cookies.

"You don't have a problem with it?" Matthew took a bite out of his cookie.

"Alfred you're seeing a psychiatrist."

"But- And crap, your right," He hid his face to hide the fact he was slowly going red. How did he not notice? Half the time they were together, she interrogated him.

"You're not going to stop being friends with her because I pointed it out are you?" Canada said, frowning at him. Alfred ate another cookie and thought about it. Should he cut his losses? She hadn't exactly pulled his entire life story out of him yet, and she didn't believe several crucial parts of that story.

"I don't know. The thing is I keep mentioning stuff that might be misconstrued as-" he started to say before Canada interrupted him.

"What did you say?"

" She may think England's an abusive bastard and because of that I'm prone to entering abusive relationships," This was a conversation they had in her car mind you. She'd asked if he planned to go anywhere for thanksgiving. The conversation had spiraled out of control from there.

"Canada, you're not saying anything." Matthew had his arms crossed and was staring at a stain in the carpet. He was silently judging him. He just knew it.

"Well, I don't think she's wrong." Alfred gaped at him, before shaking his head. This was ridiculous. The situation only looked bad out of context. They'd both been at fault for a lot of what happened later but even he had to admit, he'd taken decent care of him when he was little.

"No way, I was not a child he tossed in the freaking closet," he snapped at him. Matthew rubbed the back of his neck. Alfred wasn't even sure why they were arguing about this. Matthew had defended Britain last time it had come up. He'd changed his mind since then, apparently.

"Actually, umm . . . I was pretty young, but there were things he did that- "

" Now, I know you're lying. He was actually nice when we were little," Alfred said. If there was one thing he remembered about his youth, it was that.

"Alfred, he didn't physically abuse you, but he did have a tendency to damage you psychologically," Canada said, finally managing to look him in the eye. He seemed sincere, and Canada almost never lied. America couldn't make himself believe it.

" That's ridiculous. England yells all the time. That's the way he is," he said.

"Never mind, it doesn't matter now. You don't remember." Matthew took another cookie and shut up. America didn't want him to shut up.

"What Canada?"

"You're just going to keep cutting me off."

"No, go ahead." he said, nudging him until he caved. Matthew eventually got annoyed and shoved him off.

" Fine. Do you remember the bunny you used to have?" Canada asked. America responded automatically.

"It ran away." Canada shook his head and sighed. Alfred finally noticed the bags under his eyes. Matthew must have driven non stop to get here. He would have to make sure he didn't drive back in one night as well.

"No, no, it didn't."

"But I remember he -actually, I don't. Meh, Tony's right. I must be getting old," Alfred said. He only really remembered Britain saying it and that he cried for three days afterward.

"Wow, you really blocked it out."

"Canada, are you going to tell me or not?"

"You were eight, and I was six maybe? You were mad. I'm pretty sure it was over something stupid like Britain not giving you a biscuit,"he started to ramble. Alfred punched him in the shoulder.

"Get on with it." Alfred already knew how he was at that age. He didn't need to hear about it again. Canada rubbed his shoulder, looking like he might stop out of spite. He took a deep breath and continued.

"Anyway, everything was going okay. Instead of getting mad, he picked you up and would have probably just locked you in your room until you stopped shouting if you hadn't set him off."

"How?" he asked, a little uncertain now. He remembered other times when he had irritated Britain, but nothing much had come of it.

"Alfred, you said you hated him and that you were going to run away to an Indian encampment. I guess you still remembered how it was." Oh that, he went through a phase were he preferred to sleep outside and dress like a Indian. Well, if he could get away with it, Arthur would eventually wrestle his clothes back on.

"So, what? Did he yell at me for like an hour and send me away without supper? That doesn't count." Usually, Arthur would give him a fairly minor punishment like a time out, or if that didn't work, he'd scare the pants off him. He didn't think that was a big deal.

"No, Britain was really quiet. He put you down, and he happened to notice the bunny was inside. You weren't supposed to have it inside,"Matthew said, absently shivering. It wasn't that cold.

"What did he do? He didn't-"

"Arthur grabbed the rabbit and twisted its neck," Matthew said quietly. Alfred went numb. The bunny didn't run away.

"Why? I don't-"

"Britain said, if you wanted to be a savage so badly, you might as well eat like one. So, he skinned the rabbit, cooked it, and made you eat it. " Matthew said, carefully measuring his reaction. Alfred nearly ripped the pillow in half.

"That bast-"

"Then, he asked if you still wanted to go to the Indian encampment. You said no, of course," Canada said, taking the pillow away. Without something to focus his anger on, Alfred depressurized.

"I can't believe I forgot that." he said, sinking further into couch.

"I don't blame you for not remembering. Arthur may have done horrible things, but he didn't want you to hate him. He treated you like a prince for a good month after that. I believe it's when he got you the horse and the dog," Canada said.

He nodded, seeing that part of his life in a whole new light. The bunny hadn't run away. Arthur blamed him for not keeping a better eye on it. He had convinced him that a puppy would be better, a puppy wouldn't leave him.

"Thanks for telling me, I guess," he said. The sentiment sounded hollow even to his own ears.

"I shouldn't have said anything," Matthew said, absently hugging the pillow. He must be missing Kumajiro.

"It's okay, Canada"

"But-"

"It's not like I remember it. I must not have cared about the rabbit that much," _Liar. _Canada knew it too. He frowned, putting his hand on his shoulder.

"Alfred-" Alfred removed his hand and didn't look at him.

"I'd like to be alone for a while." Matthew patted his back and stood.

"Okay, but I'm checking on you later," he said. Alfred shook his head. He needed time to think.

"Not today."

"Tomorrow then," Matthew said, and by the looks of it, he wouldn't budge until he agreed. He didn't care enough to argue.

"Fine, if you really want to," he said. Canada walked away but turned around at the last minute.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stick around?" Matthew asked, hovering at the entrance.

"Positive," he said, smiling briefly. It didn't last.

"See you later." Canada said, waving on is way out. He didn't wave back.

"Bye," Alfred said, shutting the door behind him.

"Dammit, I didn't need that image in my head," America said, holding his face in his hands. He liked to believe he had a happy childhood, but all he could think about was his bunny's neck snapping.

"What? Did you think our time together was all crumpets and tea? You're so naive. No wonder you can't stay out of trouble to save your life."

Alfred raised his head. It couldn't be. England wouldn't have flown black so soon. He would have asked why he was here, but the smirked tipped him off. This wasn't England. He was far to happy to be England. No, his head was messing with him again.

"Oh, it's you again. Go away," Alfred said, burying his face in his hands again. If he didn't react, the illusion would end. Britain tsked him.

"I'm in your head. I believe if this were a movie, I would be listed as the imaginary British Bastard."

He could sense Britain loom over him, and it made him unnecessarily tense. This non existing entity couldn't touch him. It never tried. He could do just as much damage with words.

"Look, I know you're not here so don't bother," Alfred said. Sometimes saying so made him go away, Britain would shrug and let him be. Usually not before saying something along the lines of, suit yourself, I've no need for your company, but you do need mine. The words would eat at him for a few days, before, much like everything else that bothered him this much, he slowly pushed it to the back of his mind and let it fade away. No such luck today.

"I'm surprised you haven't give up yet," Britain said, sitting next to him. He was chatty today. Alfred faced him and decided to deal with him head on.

"Why would I?"

"A little would be French girl is telling you what to do, it's pathetic," Britain said. Alfred rolled his eyes. It was always about the French with this guy.

"Lisa is my friend. She's just looking out for me," he said. Besides, he could cut her some slack after the incident yesterday. If she really felt the need to cook for him, he would let her. If she was really worried about him, he would talk to her. If the situation got to the point were she felt the need to pick out his clothes for the entire week, then, so be it. Alfred could do worse.

Britain started digging dirt out of his nails. The smirk never left his face as he did so. He spared America a glance as if he'd barely noticed his presence in the room.

"Wasn't the other little girl your "special" friend a while ago? You're going through them like Bond girls," he said with a yawn. Alfred broke eye contact. He'd touched a nerve, but that was expected. Britain had direct access to his head. The important thing was not to react.

"Amy will come around," he said quietly. Okay, so, he wasn't a hundred percent positive about that. Britain didn't need to know that. Arthur raised an eyebrow. Alfred bit his lip. He already did.

"Right, she's only been gone two weeks. It's not like she used to stop by everyday."

Alfred lost control and ripped the fabric off the armrest.

"Shut up."

" Grumpy, aren't we? You always were a little brat when you didn't get what you want, but she isn't what you want is she?" Britain asked, daring him to lie to his face. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He did not want to play this stupid game.

"She's close enough," he said. What did it matter? She was gone. Amy was here. He didn't see a reason to fight the impulse or feel guilty about what he was doing.

"Hmm . . . I didn't expect you to admit it," Britain said, judging him silently. He could tell what he was thinking though, You're a git.

"You already know. What's the point?"

"Sad thing is, she was not even what you were looking for. What was it called again? Umph was it? I can't keep up with your silly made up words," he said, stretching and above all remaining casual, the better to catch him off guard later.

" Yes, I've lost my spark. I don't know how to find it again,"Alfred said. Knowing the sooner they discussed these things, the sooner Britain would leave.

"You want to know why you can't find it?"

"Go ahead, you're going to tell me anyway, Arthur."

He accepted the invitation and turned to face him. The smirk left his face, and Alfred was ensnared in that cold green stare.

"You're empty." _You're lonely. _

America shook his head furiously.

"That's not true."

"Isn't it? My dear boy, you keep reaching back, hoping to recapture something that is lost forever," Britain said, and eerily, the vintage record player began to play, "The Great Pretender."

"Please leave, I don't need to hear this bull crap," he snapped at him.

"She isn't coming back, and this is not the 1950's, Alfred. Be grateful, you don't have to worry about led paint, and segregation, " he snapped back. Alfred wavered.

"I'm not trying to go back. I just want to-"

"Feel complete? You're kidding? How can you do that when you're ignoring what you are?" he asked. Yes, because he was feeling just _swell_ in the white house. Alfred stood and went into the kitchen. Britain followed him. It's what specter's do after all.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked. Alfred opened the drawer, picked up a spatula, and proceeded to hit Britain with it.

"I'm going to whack you with a spatula till you go away." Arthur clutched his stomach, laughing long and hard until he was close to gasping.

"If it didn't work the last thirty times, why would it work now?" he asked. Alfred didn't stop.

"Keeps you from trying to talk me into things," America said. Britain regained his composure. He cocked his head.

"Really? Is that what you think? These thoughts are already in your head. It doesn't matter if you manage to tune me out, because deep down, this is how you feel," he said, putting a hand over his own heart. Alfred ditched the spatula and crossed his arms.

"No, it isn't. This is the sort of thing I don't ever want to think about," he said, walking back to the living room. Britain didn't follow. He didn't have to.

"Like the bunny?" He knew what to say to reel him back in. He veered sharply, doubling back.

"That's it. I'm going to- " he started to say, ready to strangle him. Maybe, then, he would go away and never come back. He didn't even flinch.

"Use force to solve your problems? How is that going for you? That's quite a deficit you got there." He didn't have a comeback ready so he settled for his gut feeling.

"I hate you."

"Get in line with the half of the world I managed to conquer. Oh, that's right. You're not in the Commonwealth club, because despite what I may say, I hate you," Britain said. The unsettling Sesame Street song starting playing in his head: one of these things is not like the other, one of these things doesn't belong. By now, Alfred had collected himself.

"Arthur doesn't hate me, and I wouldn't want to be part of the Commonwealth anyway." Frankly, he didn't want to be co-dependent, and most of his issues with Arthur had been ironed out during the world wars. Britain was undeterred when his words seemed to have little impact. Instead, he bowed, confusing Alfred. What was he trying to pull now?

"Oh, forgive me, if you're still holding onto that notion, I guess I should demonstrate what will happen next time you try knocking on his door," Britain said, pretending to open a door separating them.

"What did you do this time git? Let me tell you now. I am not helping you if the new war is in another fucking desert."

"I don't want to get into another war," It was all he could think to say, even if it left him vulnerable for rebuttal. He was still trying to get out of the one he was already in. It was a painfully slow process. Britain grinned, recognizing he had the advantage in their current conversation.

"But you will, because you're a big fat target who can't put the burger down and always meddles where he doesn't belong," He ignored the part that would get him in more trouble.

"Hey, I exercise," he said, cradling his stomach protectively. So what if at any second, he could balloon up like an air balloon. He tried his best.

"I'm sure that's what Cuba used to say before he let himself go," Yes, name one of the few countries representatives who was actually hefty. Statistically, America had a fighting chance.

"Okay, you're picking on my weight. You've obviously run out of important things to say," he said, attempting to shoo him away. Britain ignored him.

"The point is you've run out of dreams so you're chasing old ones. Now, I may not have the ability to see in the future like Wales, but I can tell you now that giving in to those impulses will make you miserable."

"I thought that was what you were for,"America said. Britain smiled for a split second. Alfred guessed he appreciated the recognition.

"Ha ha, save us both some time, go home and accept that you're not the bright shining star you used to be. You've crashed into the ground. "

"Everything cycles, I don't think I'm done for," he said, realizing too late where he'd heard that before. Britain's smirk returned.

"Taking advice from China are we? You know, I'm not going to say anything. It's too easy," Britain said.

"Whatever, I'm not going back. There's a lot I'd rather be doing than sitting in on a bunch of repetitive meetings," Alfred said, glancing at the clock. Speaking of which, Lisa should be here any minute if she'd meant what she said about stopping by. It wouldn't do to let her catch him talking to himself. Unfortunately, Britain wasn't ready to leave.

"Fine, let's say you become a doctor and marry one of these bond girls."

"Hey, Lisa's my psychiatrist. I mean my friend. Anyway, it's not like that," Alfred said, Canada's visit fresh on his mind.

"Don't you think you'll get bored? The job is draining, usually mundane and sometimes, there will be situations you find incredibly unfair for the patient. Do you really want a life centered around death, paperwork, and money?" Britain asked. America ignored all of his good points and zeroed in on the part that bothered him the most.

"I'm not going to get bored." He didn't have that short of an attention span, dammit. Britain frowned, possibly expecting a more eloquent response.

"Fine, have you picked out a casket yet? You're going to need one," Britain said, using his ace in the hole- death.

"Death happens when it happens. I'll deal with it, then," America said. No need to waste energy worrying about something he couldn't control, plenty of scientist did that for him.

"But will you be able to keep on playing doctor after your loved ones die? No, I don't think so. This is temporary, and all your doing is making life difficult for yourself and the others."

Alfred couldn't say for sure if he would. Maybe, it was unrealistic to try and live this way forever. That didn't mean he wouldn't try.

"You're a lot meaner than I remember. Most of time, you wouldn't even talk to me when you were like this," America said. Granted, he had purposely avoided him like the plague at the time, and Britain was preoccupied elsewhere. He felt sorry for elsewhere.

" That's because I didn't want to waste my breath on a worthless territory like you," Britain huffed. He filled in the blanks. _I wasn't going to talk to you if you didn't want to talk to me. _Alfred grinned.

"So, I guess I'm worth talking to now."

"No, you've peaked. I'm simply watching you fade away. Didn't last very long on top did you?"

"If you thought, I wasn't important. You wouldn't be trying so hard to get me to go back," America said, sticking to his guns. Britain shook his head, a look of pity on his face.

"My dear boy, this is your self preservation kicking in. Go back before it's too late," Britain said. Honestly, this was the most sincere he'd seen him be in a while.

"I don't want to, and it'll work out. You'll see," Alfred said, somewhat back to his upbeat self. This made Arthur very cross. He liked it when he was miserable.

"Fine, have fun messing up your life," Arthur shouted, turning his back on him.

"That's right, walk away. I don't need you or your crummy advice," he yelled after him. Arthur turned around.

"Keep saying that to every one and you'll end up alone soon enough. Trust me, I know," Arthur said, sounding way too much like the Arthur he knew. He was about to comment, but he had for all intents and purposes disappeared, lousy over active imagination.

"Man, I hate that guy," he said to no one in particular. He sighed. _I especially hate it when he's right. _The bell rang, reminding him that Britain wasn't always right. He opened the door.

"You have no idea how glad I am to talk to another human being," Alfred said. She handed him, take out? Why did he feel she had just slapped him in the face?

"I mean this in the nicest way possible. You need to get out more," Lisa said, in the middle of eating a parfait.

"You seem a little," he really didn't want to say mad after last time. She looked up at him.

"Alfred, I've seen you drunk. I think we're past formalities, don't you?" She had a point but . . .

"So, is nice Lisa gone?" he asked. She laughed.

"I'm still here, but I don't think nice Lisa is going to cut it with you," she said , and everything about that sentence set off red flags in his head.

"So, do you suffer from a personality disorder or-" She punched him in the shoulder.

"I'm perfectly sane thank you."

"I didn't mean-"

"Don't worry about it, eat your burger," she said, placing it in his hands. He felt this was some sort of trick.

"Are you sure?" he asked. She shot him a look.

"Just remember, burgers are a sometimes food," Lisa said. He laughed and took a bite. He didn't feel quite so empty.


	13. Welcome Back

Welcome back

Now, the world might think Alfred thrived on chaos and constant partying, but in reality, Alfred was a creature of habit. Most days, he knew exactly how his day would go. Sure, he loved mixing things up a little once in a while, but eventually, things would go back to normal. Even with the change of scenery and schedule, there were certain things Alfred had come to expect. Lisa bringing food with her when she came over was one of them. So, he couldn't hide his frown when she came in empty handed that afternoon. She picked up on his disappointment quickly.

"I didn't really have time to make anything today," Lisa said. Alfred sighed and waved her in.

"Don't worry about it. That's what take out is for," Alfred said. She nodded reluctantly, admitting defeat today. He picked up the phone to order. For the first time ever, Lisa's attention drifted to her immediate surroundings. She pressed her hand against the wall.

"It's crayon." He smirked. It took her long enough to notice.

"Yup," Alfred said, briefly stopping his conversation with the pizza man on the other end.

"How long did this take you?" she asked.

"A couple of hours each, I'm not done though," Alfred said. Working with crayons was time consuming, so most of the apartment was still a blank canvas. He finished ordering pizza and was surprised to find her still staring at the wall. It wasn't anything special.

"Can I help?" Lisa asked. Alfred blinked.

"Really?"

"Sure, I think writing on the wall will be fun," Lisa said. Alfred took out his giant stack of crayon boxes and handed her one. He wasn't going to turn away free manual labor.

"Okay, let's get started."

"What do you want me to do?"she asked. He shook his head - pfft, like he had any sort of theme going.

"Don't think like that. Look at the wall and draw whatever your parents never let you when you were little," he said, dramatically, gesturing to the blank wall behind them.

"Are you sure? I'm not very good," she said, getting cold feet. Alfred pointed to the wall.

"Draw."

She begrudgingly took out a purple crayon and started making a few circles. Alfred hovered the entire time, and this seemed to unnerve her, judging by the shakiness of her hand. Eventually, she made dots for the eyes and a few stray lines for the hair. Alfred had to keep himself from cracking up.

"Oh my Roosevelt, it's a pudgy unicorn blob," he said. It was actually kind of cute in an obese sort of way. Lisa's cheeks turned a rosy pink.

"Roosevelt?" she asked. Alfred put a hand over his mouth. Oops, she caught him. Curse, his cheesy euphemisms, he shouldn't be so careless.

"My Grandad," he said, already aware that didn't really explain anything. She raised an eyebrow.

"That's a strange exclamation to make."

"I could explain why I do that, or I can teach you how to draw a unicorn," he offered, taking out a sky blue crayon from the box. Luckily, she didn't seem to care enough to argue.

"Okay, show me."

"Let's see, make a couple of circles and boxes here, lightly sketch the figure's outline, and then, make hard lines when you're done, and presto, we have a unicorn," Alfred said, making a crude sketch. He thought that he'd done a decent job explaining what to do, but Lisa didn't look too confident. She hugged herself and looked away.

"I don't think I can do that."

"Give me your hand," he said, holding out his own.

"No, that's okay. I'll make a rainbow. It's hard to mess up a rainbow," she said, retrieving a red crayon from the box. He grabbed the red crayon. He was going to restore her self confidence, even if he had to draw a hundred unicorns.

"You'd be surprised. Now, give me your hand, and stand right here," he said, moving her to the right spot.

"Why?" she asked, looking up at him. He took her hand.

"I will guide you." She gave in and let him instruct her. He held her hand to keep it steady and helped her make a few preliminary circles.

"See. It's all about patience and precision. Get the idea?" he asked. She gulped.

" Yeah." she said, moving away from him.

"You're going to draw a rainbow anyway," he said, hands on his hips.

"Yeah," she said, taking a red crayon from another box. He shook his head. Well, he tried.

"Okay, I'll finish this unicorn for you," he said. She started making a red semicircle.

"Thanks."

"Yay, teamwork," he said. Lisa forced a smile and added other colors to the rainbow. She didn't try making anything more complicated than that. Alfred frowned. This was supposed to be fun, damn it.

" I don't care what you draw you know."

"You're going to make fun of whatever I draw," she said, rosy cheeked again.

"I promise I won't," he said. She hesitated for a second, before drawing something new. She had a better handle on what to do this time. Unfortunately, he wasn't too sure what he was looking at.

" It's a sword, crown, French flower thing . . . I think," he said. She punched his shoulder.

"Alfred."

"What made you come up with it?" he asked. The thing looked vaguely familiar. He'd seen it somewhere before.

"This is Joan of Arc's coat of arms. I've been thinking about her since you kept calling me Joan." she said, surrounding the thing in flames. Alfred could feel his stomach begin to churn. Joan of Arc's incarnation was researching herself. That couldn't lead anywhere good, time for some damage control.

"About that, I was pretty drunk," he said, rubbing his neck and looking down at his tennis shoes.

"I know, but you've rekindled my interest in her, " she said, intently coloring the flames.

"That's great. Totally fine." No, no, it wasn't. What if she started acting weird? What if she ran off with France. Who would make him pasta then? Italy? Germany always had first dibs on Italy's pasta, and he never shared.

"I don't mean to stifle your creativity but you're grinding that green crayon into the wall," she said. He chucked the green crayon behind him.

"Because green is not a creative color."

"What?"

"Sorry, the internet gets the better of me," Alfred said, rubbing his forehead. At least, he was finally over his obsession with Lolcats.

"I see. It is some sort of obscure reference," Lisa said, making doves above the emblems.

"Have you been feeling strange at all?" he asked. She spared him a glance.

"No. I'm fine. I'm not sure I could say the same for you. You seem a little on edge," Why? Because he banished a green crayon? He was totally keeping his cool- not.

"Are you afraid of fire?" he asked. Maybe, something had resurfaced when she started looking into Joan's past. She smiled, probably thinking he was in a silly mood.

"Not particularly no."

"Then, let's draw some more," Alfred said. He noticed her slow down.

"I do get a little uneasy around it,"she admitted.

"Never mind, we can talk," he said, turning to face her. She looked at the flames she made.

"There's nothing more to say. I've never liked fire." She absently started drawing rain clouds. This didn't go unnoticed. Alfred didn't say anything for a while. He didn't like that he'd made her feel uneasy. Finally, he thought of a less traumatic question.

"What do you think of the name Charles?" he asked. She stopped coloring and looked at him as if he'd somehow read her mind. Her initial shock faded, and she answered.

"I plan to name one of my kids Charles."

Okay, that was a stupid question too. It was like asking what Arthur would name a little girl if he ever got a hold of one again. The obvious answer would be Elizabeth. She had probably picked out the name way before she started researching Joan. So, what would be a better question? Something more recent, definitely, what was something Joan might do without thinking? Crap.

"Have you felt the sudden urge to join the military recently?" he said, grabbing her by the shoulders. She tensed and her voice was noticeably higher pitched.

"Is there a point to any of these questions?"

"Answer."

"No," she said. He unhanded her.

"Good, good, tell me if you do, I want to talk to you first before you join willy nilly," he said.

"I am not joining the army. Why are you freaking out on me?" she said, rubbing her arms. He frowned. Had he handled her too roughly?

"Sorry, I had a bad feeling," he said, returning to his doodle of his cat, Hero, sleeping on top of the world. Yeah, the wall was going to be pretty freaking random when it was done.

"What's your favorite color?"she asked out of the blue. He picked a color at random.

"Cyan, this week. Why do you ask?"

"You started it," she said. He laughed, figures.

"That's never a good reason to do something."

"I don't know that much about you," she countered.

"I'm America. What more do you want to know?" She punched him in the shoulder again, okay, not safe to joke about yet.

"What's your favorite food?" she asked, ignoring what he said before. Sadly, this wasn't an easy question for him either. He'd keep it simple.

"Don't have one," Alfred said with a shrug. He'd eat anything offered to him.

"Seriously?"

"Okay, so, it changes from week to week. Today, I like empanadas" Alfred said. Maybe, Spain would make some next meeting . . . the one that he wasn't going to. Screw it. He could make his own later

"Favorite animal?" she asked. He grinned, finally an easy one.

"Cat."

"Really? I would have thought it'd be the bald eagle," she teased, and Alfred decided it was okay to run with it.

"They're cool looking, but they peck your head nonstop, because congress forbid, I take one egg home," he said, placing a hand over his head for emphasis. She snorted.

"You joker, you." Alfred whistled innocently.

" Sure that totally didn't happen last year on my birthday," he muttered. She punched him for the umpteenth time. He should probably tell her to stop. It might not hurt him, but odds or someone else was suffering silently in his stead.

"You're not America."

"I didn't say that," he said, actually in the middle of coloring the American flag, coincidentally enough.

"It was implied."

"So, I can't joke about it, but you can?" he asked. She nodded.

"It's weird."

" You brought it up. I'll be as normal as you want me to be," Alfred said. He didn't see what the big deal was. Alfred joked about stuff like that all the time, or at least, she took what he said as a joke. She confiscated his crayon. He stared at his empty palm and sighed. Yes, that was totally the best way to get his full attention.

"See, you saying that scares me. What if this is actually a cry for help and I don't do anything?" she asked, arms crossed and eyes downcast. He rolled his eyes. She worried too much.

"I'm perfectly sane, and so are you. Can't we just leave it at that?"Alfred asked. She hesitated, eyeing him critically as if looking for some kind of tell. His shoulder slumped as the truth slowly sank in. She still thought he was crazy. Better to deny the improbable than accept the impossible, he guessed.

"You won't call yourself America anymore?" she asked. America sighed, weighing the pros and cons silently. America had never planned to tell anybody, but he really thought she would understand.

"That's the idea, yeah." America didn't need a confidant that badly, not if it was going to cost Alfred his friend.

They continued to color, and Alfred tried his best to maintain the idle banter while hiding his depressive mood. If Lisa noticed, she didn't comment, and to Alfred, that was a miracle in itself.

"So, do you ever have anyone else over?" Lisa asked. Alfred crushed the crayon he was holding into tiny pieces. Lisa can never mind her own business can she? She wasn't getting anything out of him today.

"Family mostly," He felt that explained enough without completely dodging the question. She looked past him.

"Anyone else?" she asked. He snapped the next crayon in half.

"No, not anymore," he said, finding himself absently drawing a plane. He banged his head against the wall. The stupid crayons were giving him away.

"So, someone did used to stop by?" she said, looking for clarification because all the murdered crayons weren't enough evidence for her.

"Yes." There was no point denying it.

"Was her name Amy?" she asked. He immediately snapped to attention.

" Wait. How did you know that?" Was she psychic or something?

"It's on her jacket," Lisa said. Alfred just stood there as what was happening finally hit him. Amy was right behind him.

"On her . . . Jacket," he repeated. Lisa nodded. Alfred turned around and practically crashed into her.

"Amy, you're here," he said, embracing her.

"Yes, and you're here with a blond," she mumbled. Crap, he recognized that tone. _England, you're here! And, you're here . . . with France. _He put her down.

"Why does that matter?" he asked. Maybe, he was reading too much into it. She shoved her hands in her pockets and avoided looking at him.

" It doesn't." He sighed in relief. Oh good, she didn't care. This would be just like when England and Tony first met . . . well, before they started hating each others guts. Come to think of it, he had no idea when that started. It must have happened when he wasn't around.

"Good, this is my new friend Lisa" he said, pushing her forward. Lisa just stood there awkwardly. Amy backed away.

"I'm sorry. You're obviously in the middle of a paint party or something," Amy said, looking thoroughly unsettled by the crayon walls. Alfred blocked her path. She wasn't getting away that easy.

"Hold on, I don't see you for weeks, and you're going to run off just like that?" he asked. She quickly side stepped him.

"You're busy."

"I'm coloring the wall with crayon. I'm not busy," he said, taking hold of her shoulders and nudging her in the right direction. She looked up at him, practically begging for him to let go.

"But-"

"Stay, there is going to be pizza," Alfred said. Amy removed his hands.

"Thanks but no thanks, you've obviously been keeping busy with the blond so . . ." There was a knock on the door. He grinned.

"The pizza's here, perfect. See, it's a sign, sit down," he said, pushing her down on the couch. Amy didn't get up.

"But-"

"I insist." Amy crossed her arms and pouted.

"Fine."

He went to pay the pizza man. _Ha, I won._

Okay, Amy hadn't exactly been feeling great since Andy up and left for England. Sure, everything else was going okay, flight training aside, but she did sort of miss the pompous windbag. The way he talked was sort of charming, and at least, she had been sure he wanted her around. Or, at least, he wanted her around until his career took off. Now, she could have easily filled the time she had spent with him working on assignments or building something, but she did like having someone to talk to. Actually, it was more like someone to hear. He barely let her get a word in edge wise.

Okay, so, he was a chauvinistic idiot that was England's problem now. In reality, she had been avoiding Mr. J- Al for a while now. She had even started wearing a hoodie to class and sitting in the row he tended to avoid. She realized pretty quickly that Mr. Jones was feeling down. He didn't bother answering questions and had started sitting in the back. So, when she didn't have the idiot to hang around with anymore, a traitorous thought entered her head. Maybe, Al missed her, the girl he'd known for less than a month.

Okay, maybe, she was a glorified stalker, and he didn't miss her at all. Still, she toyed with the idea of coming back and being welcomed with open arms, or even, for him, to turn her away in disdain. Of all the things Amy expected, Lisa wasn't one of them. Al had replaced her, and, now, he was forcing them to talk like the oblivious idiot he could be.

"So, you are Amy," Lisa said, sounding perfectly pleasant, the perfectly pleasant future Miss Massachusetts speaking to her short failure of an acquaintance.

"And you're the blond," she repeatedly stupidly. She needed to shut up about that. It probably wasn't the only reason he was friends with her. It was just the only reason she could think of right this minute. Still, Amy couldn't help but smirk when little miss perfect's eyebrow twitched. So, she wasn't an expressionless porcelain doll all the time.

"Yes, but I'd prefer it if you'd call me Lisa." Amy huffed. _I'd prefer it if you weren't around. _Lisa looked behind her obviously wishing Alfred would stop chatting up the pizza man and save her. _Good luck with that, he hasn't even noticed we don't like each other very much. _

"Okay, then, Lisa, when did you come into the picture?" she asked. Lisa turned around to face her. She did her best to smile, but it was small, tight, and so obviously fake.

"A few days ago but I'm afraid your name hasn't come up. Could you tell me more about yourself?" she asked. Just like that, her hopes were dashed. She wasn't important enough to come up_ once. _

"He hasn't mentioned me?" Amy asked, biting her lip. _Blech, I sound so needy. Why do I care anyway?_ _I haven't known him very long either. _Actually, she knew perfectly well what had so endeared her to Mr. Jones. _I have this gut feeling that I want you in my life. _She looked down at her hands sitting on her lap and sighed. _Liar._

"To be fair, he's only mentioned his immediate family. You probably would have come up eventually," Lisa said, sounding the tiniest bit sympathetic and guilty. Amy sank into the folds of the couch. Lisa wasn't a bad person really. That didn't mean Amy wanted her around, but she was still better company than Andy.

"Or I didn't stick around long enough to make much of an impression." She had only stopped by every single day. She had only had breakfast with him and his brother. He had only indirectly asked if she wouldn't mind having him along on _her_ adventures. And yet, there was a blond in_ her_ spot, typical.

"Don't say that. He obviously wants you to stick around," Lisa said, putting an arm on her shoulder. Amy removed her arm. She wasn't looking for pity.

"I guess so, but it didn't take him very long to find someone else to hang out with." _Hint. Hint._

"Are the two of you friends, then?" Lisa asked. She crossed her arms to bottle up her growing resentment. She took a deep breath. Yes, Amy was the stranger now. She needed to accept that.

"Sort of, we hung out for a while, and then, stuff happened,"she mumbled. Everything had gone all wrong so fast, and Amy didn't want to talk to_ her_ about it.

" What exactly?" So, of course,_ she_ asked.

"We had a fight because I met a guy, and he didn't like him," she said quickly, letting the words fly out in a rush.

"And yet, you chose to pursue the relationship anyway," Lisa said. Amy scowled. She knew where this was going.

"Yes."

Here came the judgement. She just knew it. Lisa only took a moment to consider the situation before answering.

"But, you're back. So, I assume it went badly."

Amy gaped. She wasn't expecting her to be so blunt. At least, she didn't detect any condescension in her tone or malice on her face. By every indication, Lisa was honestly trying to get to know her. She could at least try and be civil too.

"Not exactly, it was the strangest thing. Andy was offered a writing fellowship in England. He didn't even apply," Amy admitted. It had to have been a miracle, but what cosmic energy or deity had managed that?

Today was a good day. Amy had finally stopped by. The pizza had come on time. The two girls were getting along. Yet, the day was ill gotten. As soon as he paid the pizza man, it had dawned on him why exactly Amy's time had suddenly freed up. So, he left the pizza box on the coffee table and subtly made his way to the kitchen. He needed to talk to someone about it, _now. _

"Canada, I did a bad thing," Alfred said. He could hear the cars zooming by on the other end and Matthew honking his horn.

"Hold on. I'm almost there."

"No, it can't wait," Alfred said and Matthew sighed.

"Don't you have the no talking on the cell phone rule when you're driving?"

"Fine, stop the car," Alfred said. He needed to get this off his chest before the guilt started eating at him.

"I'm on a busy street," Matthew said, sounding almost cranky.

"It'll only take two seconds. I'm kind of panicking." America had misused his connections. He was on a slippery slope.

"What did you do oh evil one?"

"That's not funny," Alfred snapped.

"Fine, what did you do?" Matthew asked, not sounding the least bit worried.

"A few days ago, I got drunk."

He laughed. Matthew laughed. He wasn't taking him seriously at all.

"I'm extremely aware of that fact," Matthew said.

Alfred held the phone as far from him as possible and prepared for the end of mellow Canada. He was about to get to the bad part.

"And, as you know, I was left alone for a few hours," he said, stalling. And, it was enough for Canada to wise up.

"Oh maple, what did you do?"

"I sent Amy's boyfriend, Andy, away. He's England's problem now," America said, and oh, he had lied so much to get England off his back. _At least, when he reads his stuff, he'll account it to my supposedly bad taste. _

"Idiot." Unfortunately, the Canadian rage had just begun.

"Hey, I got him a fellowship in England. He made his choice," Alfred said. It's not like he had given him a one way ticked to Siberia like some people.

"And, it just so happened to work out in your favor," Canada said.

"Yes." And the worst part was he would do it again. Andy couldn't be the only male writer in her class. He needed to get yelled at before England started to wise up on why he was sending so many male writers to England.

"We'll talk about this some more when I get there, " Canada said. He knew what that meant. Matthew wanted to yell at him in person. There was just one problem, well two.

"Just so you know, they're both here," he said. Matthew paused.

"Lisa and Amy?"

"Yeah, so?" Alfred asked.

"You left them alone together," Matthew pointed out as if he were missing something obvious.

"And?"

"Don't you think the America thing might come up?"

"Shoot, see you in a bit, Canada."

"Try not to do anything stupid till I get there," Matthew said, and this time, Alfred could tell he was definitely worried. He grinned.

"I'm not making any promises."

"Hey, Amy, I was wondering has Alfred ever said he was-"

"Yo, how are the two of you getting along?" Alfred said, sneaking up on them just in time, whew. Lisa jumped slightly, and Amy surprisingly fell off the couch. Man, she was wound up tighter than a jack in a box.

"I like her well enough, despite my initial impression of her," Lisa said. Alfred frowned. So, there was some initial tension, but it wasn't like they were wrestling on the floor now so . . .

Amy sat up, looking ready to pounce. She set her sights on Lisa. Alfred backed away. He knew what came next.

"Excuse me, what exactly was your initial impression?" she asked. Alfred tried his best to catch Lisa's eye so he could very politely signal for her to shut the hell up and nip this in the bud.

"You seem to be a little bratty," Lisa said, taking a sip of cola. Alfred face palmed. No, this wasn't going to be a good day after all, stupid karma.

Amy stood, smoothing the wrinkles of her jacket. She never took her eyes off Lisa. This time, he tried appealing to Amy by making the cut throat sign repeatedly, but well, she never took her eyes off Lisa.

"At least, I have a personality."

Alfred froze and immediately locked eyes with Lisa. Okay, there was no need to panic. Lisa might be blunt, but she would inevitably be the bigger person and not react. When she looked away from him and met Amy's eyes, there was no outward sign of malice.

"I have self control. Perhaps, it is a difference you cannot fathom," she said, taking a bite of pizza. Okay, so, she wasn't going to be the adult, time for him to step in. He wedged himself between them and sat down next to Lisa.

"Woah, I didn't mean to start a fight. Let's turn on the TV. No one fights when the TV is on," Alfred said, turning on the tube. Amy took the remote from him, ignored the fact he was there, and sat on his lap. Of all the thoughts that could have run through his head, he wondered what Canada would think when he walked in. That was probably for the best. He had company over.

"Hold it, you think I'm inept because I can't see past the glass frame you put up to separate yourself from everyone else," Amy said, poking at Lisa's chest. Alfred shut his eyes and waited.

"I don't think you are inept," Lisa said, in a completely sincere manner. Alfred sighed in relief, now, if only he wasn't a human recliner.

"Good," Amy said, still defensive but losing some of her initial anger.

"But I do think you're an uncontrollable flame that doesn't know when to stop burning" Lisa said because why the hell not? It's not like he was being a good mediator by telling both of them to shut it. The metaphor was also disconcerting. Did Lisa really hate Amy that much?

"Alfred!"

"What?"

"Are you going to let her talk to me like that?"

"Um . . ." And now, it was worse because Amy wanted him to pick a side. Let's see. Alfred could take the side of the one who fed and believed in him (erm . . . as a person at least) or of the girl who so desperately reminded him of the person he'd lost quite a while ago. He couldn't decide. So, he stayed quiet, leading to a very awkward silence. Amy slid off of him and turned her back on both of them. Tension high, Lisa started to fidget and look at the clock.

"I fear that I may have overstayed my welcome. I think I will take my leave before I say anything else I might regret," Lisa said, bowing out gracefully. He grabbed her hand.

"Wait. I want you to stay. My brother is coming over. I'd like you to meet him," he said. She tensed. He let go of her hand. Amy butted in before another awkward silence could settle in.

"Yay, the good twin."

Lisa arched an eyebrow. Right, he hadn't divulged that particular detail.

"Twin?"

"You ruined the surprise," Alfred said sarcastically.

"Seriously, how did that not come up?" Amy said, fight forgotten for now, because she just_ loved _Canada.

"Well, we discussed other things" Lisa said, tactfully avoiding what was actually talked about. Amy had no such filter.

"Did he tell you about his dad?"

"Some of what he's done, yes," Lisa admitted. Yeah, he wasn't going to let this conversation happen, especially after that last fiasco.

"Okay, let's watch TV now," he said, pulling Lisa down and simultaneously grabbing Amy by the waist with his other arm.

"I'm guessing he does not want us to discuss it," Lisa said, slowly relaxing when it became apparent he wasn't going to hold onto her, and she was free to leave if she wanted. Soon after, Amy latched onto him in much the same way a little girl does a teddy bear. He decided there probably wasn't any correlation.

" So, how did he meet you?" Amy asked.

"I helped him get to class," Lisa said, eyes still on the clock. She didn't seem very comfortable with the current situation. He figured that might have something to do with the choke hold Amy had him in.

"Shut up, you're the guardian angel he mentioned," Amy said, letting go of him for a minute to get a better look at her face. His face was red hot, but he dared to look over to see her reaction too. Lisa was blushing.

"You called me a guardian angel?"

He wasn't sure what to do. It was the truth, and his gut told him that admitting it wouldn't be so bad. Amy's initial excitement ebbed as she noticed that he was red too. She frowned, and it slowly dawned on him that maybe, England and Tony never liked each other and neither did Lisa or Amy. His survival instincts kicked in_,_ _down play it, down play it, if you don't want them to start wrestling on the floor._

"Not important, I was joking around," he said, smiling through the awkwardness. Lisa's face fell.

"Oh, that makes sense."

Amy started looking antsy and staring at the clock too. The tension was ruining their usual casual banter. At this rate, Alfred would be alone by the time Matthew actually arrived.

"So, how did you two meet?" Lisa said, bouncing back quickly. Amy appeared grateful for the distraction.

"We met in class. He thought I was annoying," she piped up. He ruffled her hair.

"You still are." he said, thoroughly amused when she straightened up to make herself look taller. She hit his arm. Some part of him assumed, they had picked up on his invulnerability. Otherwise, they were both very violent people.

"See, how mean he is to me? Would you stick around if he treated you like that?" Amy asked. Before Lisa could say her two cents, he picked her up and wrapped both arms around her.

"You started it" he said, making sure to get as uncomfortably close as possible. She squirmed, becoming flustered by the close contact, just like he wanted. Lisa cleared her throat. He let Amy go. He wasn't doing her of any favors reminding her of his recent stint with alcohol.

"That's never a good reason to do something," Lisa said, echoing his own words. Bah, he was just having a little fun, but he supposed that he hadn't actually apologized properly last time.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I know I was pushy, and we really didn't- Canada " he said, noticing his brother at the door.

" What?" Lisa asked. Darn, she noticed him slip up again.

"Nothing. Nothing. My brother's at the door," he said. As long as he didn't acknowledge it, Lisa would think she was hearing things. Yup, good plan, now, all he had to do was deal with Canada's nagging.

"Does he say strange stuff in front of you too?" Amy asked because she must have stories about that kind of thing by now.

"Earlier today, he said, oh my Roosevelt," Lisa said. Amy gaped. That was taking his apparent patriotic fervor to new extremes.

"Seriously?"

"I'm going to be a minister so I think Alfred didn't want to say oh my God in front of me and panicked," she explained. Amy scratched her head. Did she not know?

"That and he does have a weird America obsession," she casually added. Lisa didn't look surprised. She seemed excited even.

"So, did he ever refer to himself as America?"she asked. Amy frowned, not really.

"Actually-"

"So, this is my brother, Matthew," Alfred said, shoving the poor guy in front of Lisa. He didn't know his own strength sometimes. Matthew straightened his glasses and offered Lisa a hand.

"Hello, it's nice to finally meet you. Alfred and Francis have nothing but nice things to say about you," he said, smiling and polite like last time. She shook his hand, practically beaming.

"Ah yes, you would know Francis as well," Lisa said. Matthew frowned.

"He hasn't mentioned me?"

So, apparently, this Francis guy was a lot like Alfred, constantly forgetting people. Poor Matthew, he must care about Francis a lot to be that upset. He must feel unimportant._ Glad, I'm not the only one that feels that way._

"He didn't mention Alfred either. We only spent a day together," she explained, scrambling to turn that frown upside down. _Not so cool and collected anymore, are you toots?_

"Of course," Matthew said, still sounding the tiniest bit disappointed.

"There's pizza if you want any," Alfred said, giving the pizza box to Matthew. He probably wanted him to shut up already because Miss Lisa feels so terribly uncomfortable.

"Thanks," Matthew said, putting the box down. Amy decided that it was the perfect time to catch up.

"Hey Matthew, anything interesting happen while I was gone?" she asked. Matthew grinned, and Alfred shot him a look. This should be good.

"Ally got drunk," Matthew said. Alfred punched him in the shoulder. It sent Matthew reeling a few paces. Pfft, Alfred didn't punch that hard. It was like being tapped in the shoulder. He must be kind of fragile.

"Shut up, Ally got drunk?"she said, loving it when Alfred turned red. His expression was priceless. He glared at his brother. Looks like, Matthew was about to deal with the consequences. She'd have to make it up to him sometime. As far as she was concerned, Alfred's reaction was worth any potential consequences.

"Yes, thank you so much for that, Candace " Alfred said, still completely mortified that his drunken mishap had come up, and that she still remembered that awful nickname. At least, he had something to retaliate with.

"Whatever, we need to talk in the kitchen about the thing," Canada said, pointing to the kitchen. Alfred sighed. Could he be any less subtle? Whatever, he doubted the girls would catch on.

"But what about the other thing we are trying to avoid," he said, pointing at the two girls and then at the map. Canada dismissed it with a wave.

"Doesn't matter, they'll both think you're crazy," he said. A dark shadow crossed his face, yeah, crazy. That had become really obvious hadn't it? No doubt about it now.

They went into the kitchen, and when he looked back, the girls had started talking among themselves. Good, he didn't want them snooping if he could help it, even if one of them did think he was crazy.

"About yesterday," Canada said. Oh, so, they were skipping the you sent Andy to England talk and going right to the are you're going crazy talk. Great, he was totally up for that. Who was he kidding? He needed to put it off as long as possible.

"Can't talk about it now, we have people over," Alfred said, again, checking to make sure they were still preoccupied. He had honestly never seen them get along so well. Matthew tapped him on the shoulder. He closed the kitchen door. Canada had his arms crossed and his serious face on.

"Tony said, you ripped the couch cushion." Damn tattle tale. Alfred had told him it wasn't a big deal.

"I fixed it." He had. So, it was like it never happened.

"That's not the point," Matthew said. _Yeah, the point is that you're crazy America and everything else under the sun. _

"I told you that I needed to clear my head," Alfred said, trying his best to keep his tone level. The last two days hadn't exactly shown him in the best light. The last thing he needed was for Canada to think he was unstable, not again.

"He said you were talking to yourself. You're not having a relapse are you?" Canada asked, and there it was the real reason he was here.

"No, nothing like that," he said a little too quickly. It wasn't technically untrue.

"But something did happen?"Canada asked, because he would get away with what happened too easily if he didn't

"Not really, I was thinking out loud," he said, shrugging. That technically wasn't untrue either.

"And in a blind rage you tore the couch armrest because-" Canada said, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

"I didn't like the fabric," Lame excuse, yes, but he said it convincingly enough that Canada started to doubt himself.

"So, you're not upset?"

"Why would I be? It happened so long ago that it doesn't even matter," Alfred said, trying his best not to think of the snapping sound. The bunny would never come back, but he might, and it was reason enough to convince himself it didn't matter.

"You sure about that?" Canada said. He must have noticed some trace of sadness left on his face. So, America cheered up as best he could and answered without the slightest bit of hesitation.

"Yes."

Matthew took something out of his bag. Alfred stared disbelievingly. He suddenly understood why Canada had been so cranky. He must have driven all night to get that.

"So, I take it you don't want Mr. Fuzzybunny?" he asked.

"Give me that," he said, immediately taking the bunny and hugging it possessively.

"What do you say?" Canada asked, stifling a yawn.

"You're an asshole for taking him from the White House in 1812,"Alfred snapped. Matthew shook his head.

"Or?"

"Thanks for bringing him and not letting him burn in the fire," he mumbled into the bunny. When Alfred didn't do or say anything else, Matthew decided to take his hug by force.

"You're welcome."

"So you were saying?" Lisa asked when the boys were safely out of hearing distance.

"Apparently, it's a nickname. I kind of get it. He was born on the fourth of July, and he has all these cheesy patriotic decorations that he put way. I guess he felt self conscious about it after I pointed them out," Amy said, looking around. The place wasn't exactly plain anymore, but she also didn't like that she didn't recognize most of its contents.

"He told me he was America when he was drunk," Lisa said, which pretty much eclipsed anything Amy could possibly add. Apparently, he told blatant lies when he was drunk.

"Pshht, that's crazy drunk talk. I wouldn't take it too seriously," she said, laughing to cover up the stacks of crazy they were coming across now that they were comparing notes.

"I guess you're right," Lisa said, a little too softly.

"Don't tell me you believe him?" she asked. Maybe, they were friends because they were both crazy. He probably liked that she bought this particular lie. They probably did weird roleplays where she was the statue of liberty and . . . Amy didn't want to finish the thought. Lisa looked behind her to make sure the boys were still in the kitchen before answering.

"He called his brother, Canada," she said.

"Nah, you probably misheard him. Matthew's middle name is Candace," Amy said. Not that they sounded the same or anything, but it was easier to believe than her friend was the landmass she lived in.

"That would explain it I guess," she said, looking ashamed to have considered it for even a moment. Lisa started downing the cola. Amy cracked her knuckles. She knew how to cheer her up.

"Besides, America would totally be a chick."

Lisa laughed so hard she started spurting soda out of her nose. Amy winced. Ouch, that's gotta hurt. She handed Lisa some napkins.

"What are they doing in there anyway?" she asked, once Lisa's nose stopped burning so much. She stood.

"I'll go check."

Lisa easily tipped toed into the dining area undetected and cracked the door open. Amy didn't move from the couch. She didn't exactly excel at being quiet.

"Alfred is hugging a bunny?" Lisa said, sounding as baffled as Amy felt.

"Aww, that sounds so cute, I wanna take a picture," Amy said. She couldn't miss this opportunity. Amy grabbed her phone from her purse and ran into the dining area. Lisa shut the door and shushed her, but the damage had been done. She could hear the guys muttering to themselves on the other side. It was time to bail and feign innocence.

"Did you hear something?" Matthew asked. Alfred didn't have to check to know they were on the other side of the door. He checked anyway. There was a flash, but no one in the dining area. Those girls could run really fast when they wanted to.

"They're spying on us aren't they?" Matthew asked. He nodded.

"We'll talk some more after they leave," Matthew said. Alfred nodded again. They weren't going to get any privacy this way anyway. It wouldn't hurt to wait a few more hours.

"I'm glad you two aren't at each others throats," Alfred said, pretending that he hadn't noticed anything strange in the kitchen. The girls remained calm and smiled at each other. The fact that they were both breathing heavily gave them away.

"We found a common interest," Lisa said, half panting. He sat between them, and Matthew sat next to Lisa.

"That's cool. What was it?" he asked, drinking some of his cola. Maybe, they were both into sports or something like that.

"We decided America's totally a chick," Amy said. He nearly spit out his drink, but managed to swallow. Canada elbowed him.

"I bet someone feels totally emasculated right now."

There weren't words to describe his torment right now. Curse you, Irving Berlin, and your misleading lyrics. He could take solace in only one thing. His brother was in town, and he could take it out on him.

"Shut up, Candace."

"Whatever Ally."

Right, he also had a stupid girl nickname that both girls laughed at. Alfred decided to deal with t by hugging Mr. Fuzzybunny instead. There was a flash. He made sure to obstruct his face.


	14. Now Go Away

Now Go Away

America didn't like fighting, or more accurately, he didn't like it when people fought over him. It always irked him when people argued that one person didn't love America like they loved America, or when someone tried to claim the other person hated America for disagreeing with their viewpoint. One of the nice things about not being near Washington was he didn't hear a lot of that. Sadly, this had changed in the last few days.

Granted, they didn't know he was America (or had refused to believe it in Lisa's case) but the two girls just didn't get along very well. And while they probably did have study partners and other people they could hang out with, he was stuck in the middle. More often than not, he would be invited somewhere and either Amy or Lisa would be purposely excluded, or one of the girls would come over only to leave if the other one had beaten them to the punch. Alfred really should have said something to them but experience had taught him that it was best to butt out and let them handle it.

Gradually, the nature of the confrontations changed. They went from outright avoiding each other like Scotland and England would to facing each other head on like France and England did. (Man, all of these examples involve England, America should try asking neighboring countries how they handled the constant fighting.) Since Alfred had met Lisa, she almost always brought food with her. This wasn't much of a problem until Amy started bringing fast food to the apartment to share with him. Then, the tug of war began, and he was only barely managing to keep the peace.

"I always bring food. I don't see why you keep bringing that greasy mess with you," Lisa said. Her disdain evident. She didn't even try to hide her growing irritation with Amy anymore. America was well . . . concerned. He always just stood there in the background like a plant.

"It's not like you make any for me, and I'm sure Alfred gets tired of eating your tasteless crap. Right Al?" Amy said.

Alfred froze, not expecting to get caught in the crossfire today. Normally, that sort of torture was reserved for when they tried to invite him somewhere at the same time. Luckily, Alfred was good at thinking on his feet.

"Umm, you know what, I promised to get Matthew something. It's Canadian Neighbor day. So, I'll just give him this burger. There, problem solved, " Alfred said, trying his best to keep smiling. At least, he hadn't given up pretending to be happy yet. Canada was surprised when he got the burger to say the least. Matthew was better at tuning out arguments than he was. He shrugged and started eating it. Amy was incensed. Alfred winced, apparently, that did count as taking sides in her eyes.

"There's no such thing as Canadian Neighbor day. You're just afraid of her," she said. The accusation set him off. He was kind of touchy about that particular subject. (He'd been to war with a disproportionate amount of girl countries.)

"Hey, I'm not afraid of girls. I've kicked as much girl ass as I've kicked guy ass." he huffed. Both of the girls looked confused and the tiniest bit horrified. Alfred didn't try to explain himself. He turned to his brother who was trying hard not to laugh.

"That didn't sound right, did it Matthew?"

"No, it was funny though."

Ultimately, the girls chose to ignore what he said and keep the argument going. It's not the sort of cooperation America was looking for, but he was glad that he wouldn't have a chance to dig himself into a deeper hole.

"There is no need to spare my feelings. If you'd rather eat food that clogs your arteries, be my guest," Lisa said.

Ugh, she'd been getting more and more passive aggressive since Amy's return. He rubbed his forehead to deter the incoming headache. If he wanted incessant petty fighting, he could go back to Washington D.C. and watch congress work. Alfred really didn't like being guilt tripped either. There had to be a middle ground. As Roosevelt as his witness, he would not let this get out of hand.

"It's not that I prefer one or the other. You're just putting a lot of pressure on me. Then, I usually end up declaring war on someone, and I have to stay there a long time. And then, if there is a girl involved she'll ended up hating my guts and-"

Canada made the cut throat motion with his hand, looking really freaked. America's eye twitched. He was trying to diffuse a situation here.

"What Matthew? "

He held up a U.S. map that had "You're not America"written in a messy scribble.

"Oh right, I didn't say any of that. I'll be honest. I like Lisa's food, and it is better for me. Maybe, we can just have take out once in a while?" he said, offering a compromise.

The suggestion didn't take. Amy grabbed what was left of her lunch and stuffed her other hand in the pocket of her bomber jacket.

"Forget it, I should go."

America gaped. She was walking out on them.

"Amy, don't be like that."

He was ready to chase after her and try to put a band aid on the whole thing by agreeing to eat lunch with her for a while. (Lisa would probably understand.) Canada grabbed his sleeve.

"Let her go, Alfred. We talked about this."

Alfred took a deep breath. Right, he was supposed to learn "boundaries" so he could give people their "space." He turned back to Lisa, ready to eat lunch. (He might actually enjoy it with no fighting going on.) She stared blankly at him.

"You declared war on someone?"

He didn't answer that question for obvious reasons. Matthew laughed nervously and changed the subject. The dinner went okay. The only reason there wasn't an awkward silence was because Canada was there to start the conversation back up again when it lulled.

America had mixed feelings about his brother's continued stay. Canada refused to leave until he was a hundred percent sure he was stable. Alfred thought he was overreacting. It's not like he was talking to himself, erm . . . not technically anyway.

The good news was Amy did come back the next day. The bad news was Lisa did too, and while she had made the occasional catty remark in the past, she decided to take a preemptive strike today. It wasn't anything that should have troubled him, just a small gift. Alfred was suspicious of it since Christmas was still around three months away, but he opened it anyway. He was relieved it wasn't a stuffed animal, particularly after Matthew gave him his stuffed rabbit back. Alfred thought that it might give the girls ideas. He had briefly mentioned he lost his copy of The Little Prince while traveling overseas. (The fact he has lost it during a dog fight had been left out. He'd stopped taking personal things with him after that.)

"Do you like it?" Lisa asked. Alfred flipped through his new copy, getting reacquainted with the piece. The hardcover's illustration of the boy on the asteroid brought back a lot of memories, long buried under new problems and realities.

"Yes, thank you, you didn't have to get me anything."

His old one would have been an antique by now. So, it was nice to have one he could actually read. She also didn't appear to have a hidden agenda like he expected.

"It's no problem. After all, a good friendship isn't based on what one single person wants, but what both parties are willing to give. We should respect that. Shouldn't we Amy? " Lisa asked.

Amy who had watched the exchange with thinly veiled interest became frigid. Alfred closed the book and sighed - so close. He might as well take advantage of the calm before the storm. He didn't have much of a bookshelf prepared for his new gift so he lodged it lovingly between the Princess Bride and Nightmare Before Christmas on the dvd shelf. His brother walked out of the kitchen with the ice cream tub, mouth full of ice cream. Alfred signaled for him to go back into the kitchen. Matthew took the hint and barricaded himself inside without even asking what was going on. He had been around long enough to know. The girls didn't notice. They were too busy glaring at each other.

"Believe me, I'm not the pushy one here. At least, I don't take him places he doesn't want to go. I'm also not the one insisting he diet."

Alfred was really tempted to abandon his brother, take the bus, and go to a movie until this current argument blew over. He wasn't sure anything he said now would make either girl the least bit happy. As of late, he'd discovered Lisa did indeed have a taste for things other than books. So, he'd been more than happy to tag a long to a few high brow events. (He did like attending those sort of events once in a blue moon.)Of course, he didn't mind going to the opera, visiting art galleries, or any of the other intellectual activities Lisa dragged him to, but he did remember telling Amy at some point that it was a little like hanging out with his dad. (He hadn't made it sound like such a good thing.) That could screw him over big time. It didn't help he had trouble saying no to the stuff he wasn't so interested in.

Then, she'd brought up the diet issue. Of course, he thought Lisa's food was delicious, but he had admittedly confessed to missing fast food one day when Lisa wasn't around. They'd gone to a nearby fast food joint for dinner. He'd sunk his teeth into that burger without thinking of the consequences, fueling the fire of his destruction. Amy had seen how happy he'd been to touch fast food again and started bringing some with her when she came over. This new development had led to almost daily arguments between the two girls. He was sick of it, and America wanted out.

"Yeah, I need to take Matthew home. Feel free to leave whenever you want, I'll be back in nine hours."

There, he could solve both his problems with one fell swoop. The girls weren't buying it, at all. Matthew shouting he wasn't going home yet didn't help either. Lisa frowned and asked the one question he was trying to avoid answering.

"Do you think I'm too controlling?"

Alfred shook his head, already knowing why she acted the way she did. She was constantly trying to improve his life because that was in her nature, and he wasn't going to discourage that.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm actually more worried about the two of you."

Somewhat reassured, Lisa nodded and attempted to comprehend what the problem could be as if it wasn't obvious. Unlike Lisa, Amy knew damn well what the problem was. Amy coughed to get Lisa's attention. It finally dawned on Lisa that their fighting might bother him more than he led on. The two looked at each other. Amy spoke up first.

" I don't like her, and there isn't really anything that's going to change that."

"Lisa?"

"I'm sorry. We do not see eye to eye, and she makes it impossible to coexist peacefully."

America decided to try something incredibly stupid, the all or nothing approach. He was just desperate enough to give it a go. He could arguably make friends with the cookie girl and the surfer dude upstairs if this backfired horribly.

"Then, we're done here. Grab your stuff and get out, I'm sick of the fighting, and I'm not going to bend of backwards to accommodate you two any longer."

The two fell silent, looking at him like he had grown a second head. Alfred made sure to keep up his serious expression. He wasn't kidding. Amy reacted first.

"But Al, she-"

"Find some common ground or leave."

Lisa put a hand on Amy's shoulder. Her disappointment was obvious, but she seemed to be handling the ultimatum better. At least, she was being rational about this.

"Perhaps, we can talk in private."

As much as he wanted the fighting to stop, he didn't like being left out of the loop. In all honestly, he'd prefer them to make up in five words or less, however unrealistic that may be.

"What can't you say in front of me?"

The two of them exchanged looks. Amy in particular seemed uncomfortable answering. Lisa suppressed her laughter, just barely. Alfred had a feeling he'd be discussed- a lot.

"Trust me, this will go by a lot quicker if you give us some space," Lisa said.

He couldn't argue with that. The sooner they made up, the easier his life would be.

"Fine, if you think it will help, go ahead."

The apartment really only had three places where the girls could get any privacy. Since they obviously wouldn't want to talk in the tiny bathroom, they headed to the kitchen where his brother was currently stranded. Alfred tried his best to redirect them.

"I wouldn't go to the kitchen if I were you."

Amy already had her hand on the door and groaned.

"Do you want us to talk or not?"

"It's not that I don't want you two to talk but- "

She was too bent out of shape to bother listening to him and opened the door. Alfred winced, knowing what was coming next. Amy paused, slightly surprised. After a long awkward silence, she asked.

"Have you been in the kitchen this whole time?"

Blushing, he put the tub of ice cream down and prepared to bail.

"Yeah, I'm out of here."

Lisa caught his wrist. He stopped, knowing any sort of struggle could end badly. Eyebrows raised, she asked him a simple question.

"Were you afraid to come out?"

This made him nearly cherry red. America found it very entertaining to watch and sat down, hoping the confrontation would last longer than a few seconds.

"No, it's just that Alfred said you two were fighting so I thought I'd wait it out."

They definitely weren't expecting that answer. Amy's stared blankly at him, not knowing what to say. Lisa let go of his wrist. Out of habit, Matthew hugged himself in lieu of the bear, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. The girls ate up the shy act like horses ate sugar cubes. A lot less skeptical and more than a little guilty, the two girls stood next to each other, a look of pity crossing their faces. Lisa put an arm around Amy's shoulder. Amy didn't fight her off. Apparently, all America needed to have them get along was to have Canada freak out a little. He'd have to keep that in mind if the fighting ever got out of hand again.

"Maybe, it is time we compromised. We have been causing more damage than we realized."

Amy sighed, eyes on Matthew for a second before answering.

"I guess you're right. "

The last few days had taken their toll on Lisa, she didn't quite believe her ears if her expression was anything to go by. She sighed in relief and even America felt himself relax at this first sign of progress. Amy smiled and shooed Matthew away.

"Go, go, enjoy Canadian neighbor day."

An almost hopeless frustration crossed Canada's face, when he realized, she meant that.

"There actually isn't - never mind."

A little defeated, he marched back to the couch as the door to the kitchen closed behind him. America bubbled over in laughter, and Canada pointed an accusing finger at him.

"I blame you for this."

"What? It was only a little lie. I don't see why it bothers you."

Canada started muttering under his breath. The things he said about America weren't exactly flattering. He patted his brother's back to try and calm him down. Canada sighed.

"She should know better."

America was still trying to stifle his laughter when the phrase registered. His answer was different from before. His tone implied familiarity.

"What do you mean?"

Canada didn't look at him, opting to turn on the TV. America quickly confiscated the remote and shut it off again. His brother fidgeted and looked at the door.

"You want to spy on them? "

America crossed his arms and glared at him. He wanted to know what secrets his brother was keeping. Canada blanched, knowing Alfred wasn't likely to let this go.

"Tell me."

Ready to surrender, Matthew sighed again and mumbled something. His voice was soft enough that Alfred didn't catch it. He punched him in the shoulder. Matthew flinched, but otherwise, remained calm.

"Louder."

Canada said nothing. America threatened to punch him again, and his brother cracked just before his fist made contact.

"She's Canadian, okay. Her parent moved here a few years after she was born."

Shocked, America let his fist fall to the side. His first instinct was to dismiss it as ridiculous. Canada obviously would have told him about this sooner otherwise. He knew how important something like this was to him. So, he wouldn't . . .

"You knew all this time and you didn't tell me," he said, oddly accepting of the whole thing. Matthew had his hands up in the air, clearly panicking on the inside.

"Look, it's not what you think. I didn't have a name. She was a newborn and-"

"Did you know what she was?"

The emotions crossing Canada's face were too conflicting. It was hard to tell for sure if he was guilty or not. Evidence pointed to no, then again, it was strange that he remembered a child leaving the country at all. There were too many people to keep track of to have intimate knowledge of each and every one of them on hand. People slipped under the radar all the time. So, why had Matthew kept track of this one if he didn't know? Or, had he started keeping tabs on her when America met her?

"Not at first, it became painfully obvious later. So, they let me know."

"What do you mean they let you know? You have people keeping track of this stuff? How does that work?"

There were a million questions running through his head, and more emotions than he cared to express at once. And yet, this didn't matter to him as much as the utter sense of betrayal he felt, knowing what a big life altering secret his brother had hidden from him. Matthew was reluctant to answer, but already knew there wasn't any point keeping the rest from him now that he knew what was going on.

"I keep telling you its not what you think. I didn't know her at all before you introduced us. I'd honestly forgotten about her before the rumors started to fly about you two."

Canada tried to lighten the mood, by giving him an apologetic smile. It didn't work. America scowled. Apparently, he didn't have the courtesy to mention it once, before he forgot. Very aware of his failure, Canada chose to stare at his hand and continue.

"The agency was pretty casual about it. They said, hey, you know that girl that came to Vancouver for the Winter Olympics? We're pretty sure she is Amelia Earhart's reincarnation. You should probably let your brother know. " His voice seemed to die in his throat. America was beyond pissed. They had even outright suggest he tell him, so why hadn't he? Canada laughed nervously.

"And, you never bothered to tell me this why?"

His eyes darted to the kitchen door, hoping that the girls sudden appearance would keep him from having to answer. Realizing he was getting off that easy, he finally looked America in the eye.

"You're not going to like the answer."

Stiff and holding back a lot of resentment and rage, America replied with as much resolve.

"Tell me anyway."

"There's really only one thing that's going to make you understand. And, I'm really sorry I have to say it, but it's not different than your situation with Russia."

What Canada really meant didn't click immediately, there was a lot of chaotic scrambling for some coherent reasoning that applied to this situation in his head. He finally found it five minutes later, as it took about a minute each to thoroughly remember what happened five years ago when he met Annie at the doctor's office after he went in for a check up. (He didn't really need one, but Michelle was kind of a health nut. So, he had humored her.) He wouldn't have thought much of her or their brief conversation if he hadn't realized she was Anastasia's reincarnation. He had let go of the thought almost immediately. Odds were, he was mistaken, and even if he wasn't, Alfred saw no reason to disturb her. She was the rare breed of nurse that automatically spread her warm cheerful presence to all the patients in the hospital. Annie was happy where she was, and there was no reason to worry about her at all. Russia didn't need to go mucking that up, and he had told Canada as much over the phone. America was starting to regret, mentioning the incident. This wasn't something he could deny easily.

"That was different."

"How?"

"I'm nothing like Russia."

Everything about Canada's body language told him he didn't believe that for a second. Canada bit his lip and broke eye contact, subconsciously wrappings his arms around his torso for comfort. America's mouth hung open. Canada's failure to tell him about Amy wasn't an oversight. Canada had seriously expected him to ruin her life.

"You kind of are when it comes to this although to be fair Russia hasn't had that kind of relationship with anyone since he went crazy so he technically has a better track record than you."

"I can't believe you really said that."

Of course, America tried to stay skeptical, but he'd touched a nerve. Would Russia have handled meeting Annie just fine without screwing up her life? Was he wrong about that? Or was Canada wrong about this? At this point, Canada's initial patience began to wane. Matthew ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath before replying.

"Alfred, everyone of your relationships has met a destructive end. I'm sorry, but I'm not wrong about this one. It's miraculous that she's still in one piece and doesn't hate you."

Yeah, America was very paranoid that would happen eventually, and his brother admitting this made the doubt increase ten fold. Maybe having Amy around was a mistake and it was only his self interest keeping him from choking that friendship to death.

"Fine."

America picked up the remote from the coffee table and turned on the TV. There wasn't anything else he wanted to say to his brother right now. Canada knew that conversation had ended on a sour note and frowned.

"America don't be that way."

He turned up the volume. Giving up, Matthew rested his chin in his hand and propped his elbow and the couch's armrest. His attention was fixed on the kitchen door. Alfred's thoughts drifted to the girls. They had been in there a long time. Hopefully, they hadn't killed each other or wasted his food by throwing it at each other mercilessly. He'd be equally disappointed if either scenario came to be.

"What do yo think they're doing in there?"

Damn, there wasn't anything interesting on TV today. He answered back nonchalantly.

"Probably talking about how dreamy I am."

Canada smiled wryly.

"Shut up."

As easily as some things came to her, there were a lot of things Amy wasn't good at. One big thing that always bothered her was how badly she handled her temper. This latest fiasco was only one of many which had only been made worse by her inner rage. Still, she would try her best to hold her tongue. Amy liked visiting Alfred, and she didn't want to stop anytime soon. If she had to get passed the ice princess, she would.

Lisa closed the door behind her and made only one demand.

"The fast food has to stop."

Amy wouldn't mind cutting back on the fast food. She had originally bought the stuff to make Alfred happy. The gesture had quickly escalated into an act of war, and her figure and wallet was starting to pay for it. Of course, she wasn't going to tell Lisa any of that. She shot back with her own list of demands.

"I demand Wednesdays and Fridays be takeout days, and that you let Alfred cook on weekends. You're not his mother." The insinuation wasn't enough to set her off. She had yet to see Lisa's fury pass the highly irritated stage. Amy for reasons beyond her still tried to push her to the brink anyway. Lisa closed her eyes briefly and quickly opened them again, secretly furious but collected.

"If you admit that the only reason you care is because you have this idea that I'm somehow the third wheel to your nonexistent love life."

As much as Lisa's grace under fire annoyed her, the girl's uncanny ability to see right through her increased her dislike beyond rational levels. She was dead wrong about this, but Amy panicked. Did she really come across as a jealous school girl?

"I never said-"

"Who got up at six a.m. to invite him to a concert before I arrived?"

That was completely unfair to bring up. Lisa had him two days in a row beforehand. Amy only took a second to recall Lisa's own discrepancies.

"Who locked me out of the apartment so you could ask him to the opera before I could take him to a baseball game?"

Lisa's face was priceless. Eyes wide, she struggled to find an excuse, mouth parted as if to protest. They both were equally guilty and she knew it. The moment didn't last long. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and relented.

"Very well, you may have your fast food days, and I will allow Alfred to make some sort of eldritch abomination on weekends."

Somehow, the thought of Alfred cooking up an eldritch abomination didn't seem so bad. Then again, she was more than a little smitten, and strange combos had the potential to taste really good. So, it was near impossible to eliminate the goofy grin from her face.

"I guess I could be less critical of your flaws. You're not a bad person, just very irritating to be around for more than an hour" Amy piped up. Lisa's eyebrow twitched, and she also seemed to have trouble holding her tongue. Hmm . . . Amy must finally be getting to her, excellent.

"I will do my best not to sink to your level. I've done some fairly questionable things since I started competing with you."

The shame Lisa felt was palatable. And, Amy had the decency to be at least slightly sympathetic. Admittedly, Lisa had become more irritable and snappish since Amy started picking on her, and it was clearly taking its toll on her psyche. Why did she start hating this girl so much anyway? She was perfectly nice. Maybe a little too nice for her tastes, but she should have been able to tolerate her when she did hang out with Alfred. Then again, she did show up every freaking day, no matter what. Was it so wrong that she would want her to disappear for a while?

"We were getting along so well too. Do you even remember why we started fighting?"

Amy already knew, but it was as good a place as any to start letting bygones be bygones.

"Simple, we wanted his attention. He's special, and I get the feeling that we may have been trying to keep that to ourselves."

While somewhat reflecting her own thoughts, Lisa's choice of words left her uneasy. Sometimes she did feel like a string tugged at her heart and compelled her to visit every freaking day. Did Lisa get that same feeling or was she the obsessive one? Amy didn't want to dwell on it and did her best to disregard Lisa's theory.

"Please, what's so special about Alfred?"

A million things came to mind and those millions of thoughts were shredded into tiny pieces and dispersed throughout her psyche. Amy shouldn't be thinking that way. All of her plans were solo acts, she didn't need Alfred hanging around. So what if he seemed to instinctively know what to say to make her feel better and if she instantly felt safe in his presence, Amy was fickle. She'd probably find him annoying in a year. She was a horrible judge in character.

"I don't know. It's just the way he looks at you as if-"

"You're the only one that matters in the whole world," she finished. Dammit, why did say that? That was the last thing she wanted to think about. Alfred wasn't special, and he couldn't care about her as much as he seemed too. Eventually, he'd get bored of her and leave her high and dry, just like her father. Lisa shot her a knowing look.

"Hmm . . . I was going to say as if he knows the secrets of the universe, but I do get why you would want to be the center of attention."

Oh and now, Lisa teased her like her crush was no big deal. They weren't that close, and Amy was determined to keep it that way. She scoffed and retaliated accordingly.

"Shut up, ice princess."

"Whatever you say, brat."

Ah, they had nicknames for each other now. Sometimes, super hearing paid off big time. As for his own situation with his brother, things weren't going nearly as well. He still hadn't forgiven him for what he did, and they'd run out of things to talk about since then. Fortunately for Canada, he wasn't going to hold a grudge, simply because he was bored, and the girl's antics were only mildly entertaining at best.

"Sooo, What did you want to talk about? My supposed insanity?" he joked. Canada knew he wasn't actually insane. Matthew was a worry wart that didn't know when to mind his own business. Canada turned off the TV and answered.

"Exactly."

America narrowed his eyes. He really shouldn't have to defend himself. Since he wasn't sure where he was going with this, his tone was casual if guarded.

"What about it?"

"I think you're fine."

"Listen here, I don't go around - what?"

For once in his life, Canada understood that he didn't need him to do anything. Somewhere in the world an Angel must have received their wings because this was an absolute miracle. There was a lighthearted aura around his brother today. Matthew's smile was warm and his eyes had a reflective sheen to them.

"Being around people is good for you, sure, you were miserable the last few days, but I think the reason you freaked out before is because you were completely isolated from others."

America did not appreciate Canada spewing such slander. He did not go crazy when he was alone. In fact, he'd proven time and again that he could take care of himself, (give or take a loan or two when he was younger.)

"I did not freak out. I had vodka and then other stuff happened that will remain undisclosed,"he reasserted, wagging his finger at Matthew for emphasis. Canada rolled his eyes and ignored him.

"Anyway, I bring it up because I don't think you need me around."

Woah, he hadn't expected his brother to give up so soon. America blinked, overtaken by a sudden empty feeling. Certainly, Canada could stay a little longer without it turning into a national incident.

"If you want to stay, you can."

Alfred felt weak for indirectly asking him to stay. Matthew shook his head, not picking up on this. This made him feel worse.

"You don't need me to. I should be heading back anyway to do my "Canadian duties"as you put it" He used finger quotes when he said Canadian duties.

Okay, his choices were rather simple. He could either let it go and forget, or America could suck it up and ask him to stay a little longer. Canada wouldn't make a big deal about it right?

"Stick around for a few days will ya? I can't have you constantly crossing the border, every time you think I'm having a mental breakdown." he chided.

Canada was more than a little smug when he heard that. America tried his best to hide his embarrassment. His brother stretched and replied, adding his own jibe.

"I won't leave right away. There's always a chance you'll prove me wrong in the next hundred and sixty eight hours."

Despite being ninety percent sure he was fine, America laughed awkwardly.

" Doubt it. Wanna play some video games?"

He held up a controller, and Canada took it.

"Sure, have you been playing much?"

America pressed start after Mortal Kombat loaded. They needed the mindless button pushing for a while.

"Tony, kind of makes me to play more than I should."

Canada nodded absently. While they selected characters, Matthew asked him another question.

"Ah, so, have you had an epiphany yet?"

Jeesh, he was making it sound like all he had to do was buy it at the grocery market. Things weren't that simple. America hadn't decided much of anything other than Tony really hated the bus. He'd been kicked off three times for obsessive cursing and otherwise making a scene.

"An epiphany isn't something I can buy."

Canada smirked, and America couldn't help but feel that he was being a little condescending. The next question bugged him even more.

"What have you been doing then?"

"Going to school, hanging out with the wonder twins arguing in the kitchen, you know, things normal people do. You should try it. They give you cookies and junk."

"Uhuh, I'm sure you've been having a lovely time."

The dismissive tone effected him strangely. It took him a while to realize what made his brother's tone so nerve wracking. America shook his head. Great, he sounded exactly like a certain fellow across the pond. The thought made him sick in his stomach.

"You still don't think I'll go through with this do you?"

"You will."

Wow. He hadn't expected that out of Canada's mouth. From what he had gathered from the other countries pitiful attempt at a intervention, most of them had the impression he would quit soon enough. His brother had been under that same impression until America corrected him. Personally, he was glad that he was taking him seriously.

"What made you change your mind?"

"The girls."

That angered him more than if Canada still thought he was a quitter because instead of quitting because of he was easily bored, he apparently wouldn't quit because he was here to meet chicks - how annoying. America thought Canada was better than that.

"Okay, that is a pretty horrible assumption to make,"

"You care about them. You won't abandon them unless you have to. Otherwise, yeah, I think you would have quit by now," he said honestly.

Alfred felt himself slowly implode, fist shaking and voice reaching a new threshold of loudness.

"That is the stupidest-"

"Alfred, when you started losing access to some of your basic skill sets, did it scare you?" he asked patiently.

"I did freak out a little, yeah."

"If you'd been alone, would you have let yourself go through all that just to find what you think you're missing? I don't see the point if you were going to lose such a large part of who you are in the process," he argued reasonably.

Bah, why did Canada have to make sense all the time? Yes, the whole thing had rattled him more than any change he had been expecting. America had struggled through it, and while their friendship was still new, Amy had at the very least distracted him from his troubles. Lisa wasn't even on his radar at the time. Still, he didn't completely buy Canada's reasoning.

"Maybe but I don't think it matters as much as you think it does."

The door swung open, slamming against the plaster wall. Amy came out first, putting her hands on her hips triumphantly.

"Congratulations Alfred, I have liberated you from Lisa's Tyranny. You can now have fast food on Wednesdays and Fridays, and you get to cook on weekends. "

There was only one thing that caught his immediate attention and not in the way Amy wanted at all.

"I have to cook on weekends?"

Her face fell, and Lisa was trying her best not to laugh in the background. Put off, she huffed.

"I swear I don't know why I bother defending you"

"I don't need defending," Alfred answered automatically.

"How about we all agree to disagree, and you can watch me tear Alfred apart in Mortal Kombat,"Canada offered.

Amy shook her head. Alfred looked at them both in surprise. They tended to stay longer than an hour or two, and it made him think something had gone wrong in the time he had started to pay less attention to their conversation.

"I think it's time we left actually. I'll see you tomorrow Alfred."

"Everything okay with you two?"

Lisa answered this time, in true diplomatic form

"Yes, I do believe we've reached an understanding."

That would have been enough to reassure Alfred if Amy hadn't spoken up.

"Yup, we're just not going to fight in front of you."

Lisa ribbed Amy in the stomach and hissed.

"You weren't supposed to tell him that."

Holding her stomach tightly, she gasped, clearly not expecting Lisa to get violent.

" Hey, we're leaving at the same time. I think it's an improvement,' she answered finally.

Realizing she had hit Amy harder than intended, Lisa escorted Amy outside. The sight wasn't the most reassuring, but he convinced himself some progress had been made. That didn't keep him from blaming himself for the continued animosity. He did seem to bring that out in people.

"So, is there just something about me that brings out the worst in everyone, Canada?"

His question tore Canada's eyes away from the game. He had been very enthusiastic about playing again. Matthew didn't indulge in games as much as he did so the game had more of an exciting new feel to it.

"Think of it this way, they're willing to try and get along because of you. That's a good thing."

The reassurance rang hollow. They were fighting because of him in the first place. It was one of those tricky situation that he started, and it bothered him that he couldn't resolve it right away.

"I guess."

Canada was about to say something else, but there was one very important thing he wanted Canada to know that couldn't wait.

"Hey Canada?"

"What?"

"I won."

"Dammit, I forgot to pause."

Yup, he loved having his brother over. It was nice having an opponent he could beat for once. Eat your heart out Tony.


	15. Sorry I Slipped

Sorry I Slipped

For a solid month now America had avoided temptation. His phone for the most part had been untouched except for the occasional call from the president or the girls. But no, this guy had to get a hold of his number somehow, and just like that, the floodgates had opened. America couldn't remember the last time he wasn't on the phone. Frankly, some of the calls he'd been getting were moving away from the usual hey there's an election coming up and I'm running this year to border line harassment.

"No, I am not snubbing you. I seriously gave up my title and everything."

Was that so hard to believe? It's not like he was still in Washington or living in the lap of luxury. The guy seriously thought he was purposely excluding him when he hadn't yet formed much of an opinion on him either way. That would likely change in the coming months, but right now, he was the annoying guy keeping him from his video games.

"Look, I don't want to see you. I'm not part of the system anymore."

With the way Washington worked, it would be much too easy to get sucked back in. And if he made one exception, he'd have to make another five hundred and thirty five exceptions later on. (Okay, so the incumbents probably wouldn't bother him as much but still. )His reply left a sour taste in his mouth. He wasn't unpleasant, but he was trying too hard to make it sound like he was obligated to see him, and he wasn't.

" Listen, I should not find the guy parodying you in the Tostino's chips commercial a more appealing candidate than you."

America winced, knowing that he wasn't going to take that well, but it had slipped out anyway. Not that it mattered much, Alfred had simply given him a better way to stack the odds in his favor. The accusations started flying and Alfred tried his best to do damage control.

"No, it's not that I don't like you. I don't know you. Dammit, my professor has a point."

There was too much he didn't know yet, and despite how early people started campaigns, there were many that wouldn't pay attention until the two nominees squared off for the presidency. Right now, there was only the occasional positive and negative feedback spikes in his brain to give him any indication of how he was fairing against public scrutiny. Nothing too promising yet, but the commercials and debates should make things clearer or leave him more confused depending on how everything went.

Damn, he should have phrased things more carefully. The guy pointed out that the best way to get to know him was too meet him face to face. America sighed in defeat. He supposed meeting the Republican nominee couldn't hurt. People could be very fickle when the economy wasn't doing so well. He might be seeing more of him soon, regardless of his current isolation.

"Yes, I'm paying attention. Look if you want to see me, we can arrange something this weekend."

And it was music to the candidate's ears, he came off a lot friendlier once he got what he wanted. The nominee feed him the standard, you won't regret this, line. America was a little too jaded for the line to hold much weight. There were already things about the guy that had him skeptical, and he wasn't planning on wasting any time this weekend listening to drivel.

"Please try to have a cohesive plan when we talk, I am America. Vague slogans and promises won't impress me."

Okay, so it had worked more than once, but he wanted something solid this time around, no "Return to normalcy" or "Happy days are here again" bull crap. (Their results tended to vary, and this candidate wasn't charismatic enough for him to take his words at face value.)

"No, I'm not trying to insult you. You're like a mystery prize right now. I have no idea what your planning and that makes me nervous."

Instead of being reassuring, he was accusatory, telling him he put too much faith in a person who hadn't done much to evoke real change, and that he was using this as an excuse to not give him a chance. America rolled his eyes. This was the one big election that people bothered to participate in. If he really wanted to be stubborn about who he supported, it would take more than ignoring a candidate for any length of time. He was a representative of the people, not the other way around. Opinions and doubts would funnel in regardless of how much he shut his eyes and stuck his head in the dirt.

"Yes, most of the time I will favor the incumbent, it's in my nature. You have to woo me, and even then, the people make the final decision."

His response was a lot more positive and confident, hinting at greater things to come. America nodded along absently, finger on the end call button. He was slowly learning, but that didn't mean he was ready for any of it. America would withhold judgement until he had a better handle on his strengths and weaknesses.

"Goodbye."

And no, America wasn't going to stop there. He had even more calls to make to get answers to his questions and concerns. Why shouldn't he? He had all their numbers on hand, and nothing that needed to get done right way.

"Finally, I've had that guy from Ohio on hold for half and hour."

Without missing a beat, he continued on as if the conversation had never stopped.

"Anyway, my point is you can't do that."

The guy took a minute to get his bearings, obviously having forgotten he'd called in the first place. These days, no one was ever willing to admit they could be the tiniest bit wrong, and the guy answered accordingly. Alfred's face fell. This was all so frustrating.

"You're not listening."

Again, accusations flew, this time America was accused of being unreasonable and unnecessarily suspicious. The guy claimed not everything was a bipartisan ploy and that the schedules had simply worked out that way. What did it matter if the times were different depending on the county? They still had the same amount of time to vote. Alfred frowned. They knew damn well why it mattered and that's why they had scheduled things that way.

"I'm saying it's not fair for you to shorten the time people have to vote, and it's sort of thing that makes me want to march down there and-"

"Don't you Alfred me, I . . . have visitors. Excuse me, I'll call you back."

The guy was starting to get on his nerves. Hmpf, he had the nerve to treat him . . . like a regular person. He shook his head. The very least he could do was listen, regardless of who he was. That didn't matter right now though. He needed to be Alfred again, not America. The girls were knocking on the door. He could tell by Amy's rapid impatient knocking stepping into rhythm with Lisa's softer knocks.

"Hey guys, come on in."

The two girls were all smiles today which was a welcome relief after all the fighting he'd had to deal with the last few days. Amy zoomed past him and sat on the couch.

"So, Al, what's for lunch?"

Lisa walked in and shot her a look. Technically, take out day wasn't for a while yet, and he wasn't obligated to feed them when Lisa didn't bring food.

"Amy, he probably didn't have time to pick up anything today," she said, before he could say anything. Alfred cleared his throat. The two girls faced him expectantly.

"Actually, I stopped by Chick-fil-a since it was close by so we'd have something to chow on while we studied," he said, dropping the Chick-fil-a bag in front of him. Amy wrinkled her nose.

"Oh, yeah . . . I'm not eating that."

Alfred blinked in surprise. He didn't think she'd be so picky. Lisa also seemed a bit put off by his selection as she sat down without touching the bag. Okay, he was definitely missing something.

"Why not? You don't like chicken?" he asked. The two looked at each other, and Amy elbowed Lisa. Reluctantly, Lisa spoke on their behalf.

"Alfred, are you not aware of the Chick-fil-a scandal?"

A scandal? Huh, he had been avoiding the TV so he hadn't heard anything. Alfred kept himself from imagining the worst and tried to be ambivalent about the whole thing although he had to wonder what would be so bad that neither girls would touch the stuff. (He kept picturing a human finger in the chicken strips. )

"It's a fast food place. Unless someone got murdered in the restaurant, I'm probably not going to stop eating there," he said honestly, keeping his human finger theory to himself in case he was dead wrong. No need to ruin their appetites with his overly active imagination that remembered the horrors of the meat packing industry before people reformed it.

"The CEO is against gay marriage and has been funneling money from the business to support his cause."

America wasn't sure what to think. There was a deep negative reaction that had more to do with the fact that the food he liked to eat could suddenly be taken as a political statement.

"Great, even the freaking fast food places have to divide the damn nation," he said wearily. He sat in between them, shunning the fast food by tucking his head behind his knees so it was out of view. Lisa and Amy seemed sorry they brought it up. Amy nudged him. He looked up at her, still sour that his takeout had been tainted by political connotations.

"Hey, you have Oreos, so it kind of evens out,"she said. Lisa made cut throat motions with her hand. America wasn't sure what Oreos had to do with anything. He had a bad feeling that Chik-fil-a wasn't the only company politicizing their food.

"What are you talking about?"

Please don't let it be horrible. Was it so wrong he wanted to lick icing on a cookie without it being associated with something vile like euthanasia or unethical animal testing? (So, maybe, he was starting to overreact just a bit.)

"They had an advertisement supporting gay rights. So if we eat the chicken and then the Oreos together, it works out," she said like it made perfect sense.

Alfred shook his head. That really didn't make him feel better. America liked being neutral, and all this did was remind him that he couldn't buy either product until the dust settled. Lisa blanched at Amy's statement, slow to react.

"You have strange logic," she said finally.

America held up the Chick-fil-a bag forlornly. He wouldn't get to dip the chicken strips into the honey mustard sauce now. Alfred had paid for extra dipping sauce, dammit.

"Why, Chick-fil-a? Why must you make it so hard to stay impartial? I loved your honey mustard sauce, but I can't do this anymore," he cried, not caring if he looked crazy. (Canada was staying in a hotel to give him some space anyway. So, it's not like there would be any long term consequences for talking to his bag of chicken.)

The two girls stared at him blankly. Yup, they definitely thought he was going crazy.

"Oh dear lord, he's breaking up with the chicken," Amy said, shaking her head at the spectacle. Lisa nodded, more than a little concerned. That made Amy even more worried. Lisa had a minor in psychology so it must be serious if she wasn't laughing.

"Have you noticed that he's kind of high strung when it comes to anything political?"

Amy didn't want to believe it. Overall, Alfred was very easy going, but there had been subtle hints along the way that pointed in that direction. His obsession with America. The way he avoided TV like the plague after a political commercial aired. Then, there was . . . this.

"Yes, I have to agree. So, truce?"

"Yep, let's get him out of here."

Amy stepped up first and seized his right arm. Alfred stopped rambling and looked up. Good, she had his attention. Trying to keep her smile natural, she addressed him much like she would a kindergartner. Hopefully, he wouldn't notice.

"Hey, Alfred it's okay. Put the chicken down and step away from the Oreos. We'll go to Burger King."

The poor guy didn't look convinced. He didn't budge. His stomach grumbled and betrayed him. Alfred sighed.

"Nothing's is going on over there right?"

"No. Well, if you over think it, hypothetically, they support a monarchial system," Amy said jokingly. Alfred turned his back on them.

"That's it. I'm boycotting all junk and fast food," he said. Her eyes widened when she realized he took her seriously. Lisa covered her face with her hand, shaking her head.

"Alfred, calm down, you're overreacting." Lisa said. Alfred put a pillow over his head and attempted to tune them out. Amy decided to back her up.

"Yeah, I mean there are a lot of companies who have questionable business practices and ethics, and if you try to avoid them all, you're going to drive yourself crazy. So come on, just get a Whopper, and give the chicken to a homeless guy or something if you don't want to eat it," she offered. This seemed to do the trick. He sat up straight and picked up the bag.

"I guess I'll give it to Kenny," he said, getting up. Amy was curious. She had always assumed that he didn't get out much when they weren't around. This was the first time that he'd mentioned someone they didn't know.

"You know a homeless guy named Kenny?"

Alfred laughed, opening the door and stepping outside. The two of them followed, and he closed the door behind them.

"Oh no, he's one of my next store neighbors," he said. She nodded, unsure what to make of it. A neighbor was no better than a stranger based on her experience. If Lisa had an opinion about this new development, she kept it to herself, the stupid ice princess. They didn't walk very far before Alfred spotted a blond dude on the floor above them, sporting dread locks and a t-shirt and shorts. (The chilly weather didn't seem to matter to him.) Alfred leaned forward on the balcony, holding up the bag of chicken.

"Yo bro, do you want chicken?" he shouted. The guy grinned adjusting his sunglasses.

"Heck yeah, toss it up bro," he said, holding out a hand.

Alfred didn't hesitate and tossed the bag up. Amy thought she would see chicken fly everywhere, but the guy easily caught it. He opened the bag and whistled.

"Sweet, honey mustard sauce."

Dusting his hands together, Alfred turned to the two of them, no longer doom and gloom.

"Okay, that works. I"m sorry about that. Fast food places tend to be one of the few uncomplicated things in my life so this sort of thing upsets me a lot," he said sheepishly. Amy patted his back, not seeing the need to dwell on it.

"That's okay, Alfred. I'm just glad that you're not freaking out on us anymore."

Alfred was about to reply when his phone rang again. Amy frowned. He'd been getting a lot of calls lately, and sometimes he'd forget they were still there when he hung up. They had both resorted to doing homework in the meantime or if they felt that he would be preoccupied too long, they would excuse themselves. Then, the next day, he would claim he hadn't heard them say goodbye, and he would insist they stay the next time they tried to excuse themselves. It was turning into a real problem.

"Wait, I have another call. No, I'm sorry. That's bull shit. No, I can't talk right now," Alfred said. The caller said something on the other line. His eyes narrowed.

"Believe me, I am perfectly aware of how the system works, and it is just not necessary. All you are doing is making it more difficult for . . . No seriously, I can't talk about it now."

Lisa wasn't in hearing distance, but he was very aware she was listening in. He urged her to keep going and catch up. She shook her head. A little vexed, he tried walking a little faster. Amy easily kept up with him. The person on the other line said something and caught his attention.

"Why not? Because, I'm with some girls right now," he admitted. She waved. Alfred rolled his eyes and pushed her away. Like a cobra, he snapped without warning.

"No, it certainly does not affect my judgement, and so help me, if you all continue to act like children, I will drive to D.C., and I mean, bye gotta go," Alfred said, hanging up hastily when he realized Amy might hear something he didn't want her to.

"What was that about?"Amy asked. Already, she could tell that Alfred was going to keep his mouth shut. Still, she made a mental note that he might live in Maryland.

"Just some guys, living in my old place, making a mess of things, nothing you need to worry about right now," he said casually.

There wasn't much Amy could say that would get her a straight answer. She'd realized that early on and had been trying to piece things together herself. Sometimes, he sounded like a boss ordering a bunch of peons around. Other times, he sounded like a dad yelling at a bunch of ungrateful brats. So, she could never get a clear picture of what was really going on. Amy let it go. He'd mention more when he was ready she was sure.

"If you say so,"she said. He seemed relieved that she didn't ask a bunch of follow up questions this time. They finally caught up to Lisa who had been patiently waiting by her car. She unlocked the door and let them in. Alfred sat in the front, and Amy volunteered to sit in the back. This way she wouldn't be forced to have a conversation with Lisa while she drove. After a period of silence, he addressed them both.

"On a completely unrelated note, you're both registered to vote right?" he asked. Admittedly, the way things were shaping up was starting to make him nervous, even if he'd been through this fifty six times before. So, he wouldn't mind making a conscious effort to get the people around him to vote if he could do nothing else.

"Mhhmm, it's done. Ah shoot, I forgot my jacket. I'll be right back." Amy said, running out of the car. Lisa adjusted her mirror and turned on the ignition, leaving the car on park so she could talk to him while they waited for Amy.

"Yes, why do you ask?"

He didn't want to make a big deal out of it, especially after the Chick-fil- a fiasco.

"No reason, just wondering."

His phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket, ready to answer. To his surprise, Lisa held out a hand, looking cross.

"Alfred, give me the phone."

Knowing that he wasn't likely to get it back for a good hour or two, he instinctively held the phone closer to his chest and tried to plead his case.

"But I have a bunch of guys in Ohio, I need to talk t- hey," she easily snatched it up, using the element of surprise. He didn't expect such tactics from Lisa. She hung up on the person without answering and held up the phone.

"These people are driving you nuts. I'm going to delete their numbers from your phone. Bill Clinton? And Barack Obama?" she said, eyes wide as she scrolled through his contact list. Drat, he didn't act fast enough.

"Give me that, and um, I met them at a fund-raiser?" he claimed feebly.

Lisa took a while to respond, but when she did, it made him wish he'd left his phone at home.

"Strange, I feel like I know even less about you after seeing that,"

No. No. No. He didn't want her to see him differently.

"Hey, I'm still Alfred, just Alfred, with some interesting phone numbers and a fanatical interest in politics."

"I don't know lately you seem to be wanting to spend less time with us and more time by yourself."

Is that why they kept bailing on him? America had been spending a majority of his time on the phone. He didn't want his renewed interest in politics to drive a wedge between them. America could adjust so this didn't cause major issues down the road. He already had a very simple solution ready to go. America shut off his phone.

"Tell you what, I'll turn off my phone while I'm with you two, better?"

"Much."

Shoving her arms into her jacket, Amy rushed back into the car, completely oblivious to what had transpired. He was glad. Frankly, America had slipped up multiple times in front of Lisa without her pushing the issue. If he'd slipped up this much in front of Amy, she would be demanding answers, but for the moment, Amy remained unaware and therefore, unlikely to get information out of him.

"What did I miss?" Amy said as she noticed the almost painful silence in the car. Knowing Lisa wouldn't betray him, he put on his seat belt and waited for her to come up with some excuse to cover up what happened.

"Alfred knows Bill Clinton and Barack Obama," Lisa said. Alfred froze. Shit. They were getting along better than he thought.

"Shut up."

"No, you shut up," Lisa responded good-naturedly.

Lisa pulled out of the parking lot, eliminating his chance to escape. Alfred sank down in his chair. This was going to be a very long car ride.

"So, like was it at one of those pricey fund raising things or do you like play golf together on weekends or something?" Amy asked because she was bound to ask eventually.

"It's complicated." He didn't need to say anything more, and if he did, he needed to keep it impossibly vague. America was sure now that he didn't want his secret getting out. Every time he had come close, they hadn't responded well to it, and that wasn't even taking into account past lives.

"Hey, he also has Jimmy Carter on here," Lisa said. Amy leaned forward to get a better look. Alfred confiscated his phone again.

"Stop taking my phone," Alfred snapped. He didn't realize Lisa had such sticky fingers. He'd have to keep a better eye on his stuff. Amy tapped his shoulder. He turned to her, preparing himself for another slew of questions.

"So, you must be super rich right?"

Ha, people wouldn't sweat the election if that were true, a good economy usually went a long way to garner support for the incumbent. He smiled wryly.

"You would think so but no."

No time was taken to pause and consider what he said. She spit out questions in rapid succession, trying to trip him up.

"A Kennedy?"

"No."

"Obscure war hero?"

Yeah, he wasn't getting into that mess. Considering the secrecy surrounding him and people's varying attitudes towards war, he didn't usually receive all that much recognition when he did participate, and it had been quite a while since he had even attempted too.

"Eh, I'll get back to you on that one."

"Have an inspirational life story that would make America want to cry?"

"What? I mean no,"he said, scrambling to keep a straight face. Right, Alfred had to remember he wasn't America right now, or he would be forced to answer even more questions.

"Wait, you got flustered. I bet it's something like that."

About to deny that he was involved in anything of the sort, Lisa cut in.

"Perhaps, we should stop invading Alfred's privacy. If he doesn't want to share, that is his business,"she said, realizing the position she had put him in. And yet, her response was still frostier than he would have liked.

"Girls, it's not that I don't trust you. I just don't want the sort of life I used to have again," he said, and he did mean that to an extent. Obviously, he hadn't cut off all ties to his old life, and his stuff was still waiting for him at the White House if he wanted to return, but for now, he wanted to dissociate himself with all that. It's not what he needed right now.

"That's funny," Amy said. Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"What so funny about it?"

"For someone, who doesn't want to be involved with those people, you talk to those people a lot,"she said.

Yes, he did. They had unwittingly sucked him back in, and he was acting just like those corporate types who took their phones with them on vacation and essentially worked long distance instead of taking an actual vacation. Alfred was trapped, and he knew it. He couldn't cut the cord. He needed those numbers, and he needed to know he could go back if he wanted.

"I can't just stop either."

To say they looked disappointed was an understatement, Alfred wanted to pretend he could let it all go, but he couldn't. He had helped built himself up, and sometimes he worried. Sometimes, he needed to call someone. Sometimes, he needed to feel in control, even if he wasn't.

"I don't know. I have a headache," he said, feeling his head throb from the indecision. It would only get worse as they got closer to November, and he may or not make some irrational decisions before then to compensate. Lisa stopped the car. They'd arrived. She patted his back and apologized.

"I'm sorry I brought it up. You'll feel better once we eat," she promised.

Ah, he remembered when he still thought food was a natural remedy to everything. Okay, so he still did. It's why he tended to overeat. He rubbed his forehead and tried to stop the headache that way.

"It's not your fault. Amy has a point. I can't just drive around the country and protest like I used to," he said, sorting and separating himself from his past life as he sat there, judging what he could still do and what he couldn't.

"Wow, really, what sort of protest?" Amy piped up. Let's see. What had he done recently?

"Well, I went down to Houston, Texas a little while ago to protest a law that would virtually make feeding the homeless illegal," he said. Amy didn't ask him any follow up questions. If anything, she seemed rather impressed, summing up her feelings in one syllable.

"Cool."

As much as he enjoyed her adoration, something had to give. He had been taxing himself too much, and it was going to cost him one way or another. If he was going to do this, he was going to do this right.

"I'll make some calls later and cancel some appointments I made. I shouldn't be trying to live a double life. I'm not a real super hero," he said, and if he had been around different company, this would have sent red flags flying everywhere, but in this crowd, there was only puzzlement as they saw for a second that there was more to him than they'd originally thought.

"Al, really, who are you?" Amy asked. Alfred grinned. He could be anyone he wanted to be.

"A college student who wants a bite to eat, whose with me?" Lisa smiled in approval, opening her car door.

"I'll second that. Amy?"

"Sure, I'll pay since I made you get rid of the chicken," she offered, getting out of the car. Alfred wasn't keen on letting her pay. He was the one that had screwed up.

"No, that's okay, I'll pay since I flipped out on both of you."

Amy shook her head.

"I don't need a sugar daddy. I'll pay."

"But-"

"Let her pay," Lisa said. Since it was two against one, Alfred relented.

"Fine."

"Hey, you're not going to get tyrannical on election days are you?"

Considering all the changes this year, he really couldn't guarantee that, and he was damn sure going to make sure they voted, even if he had to get them up at five a.m.

"Well, Amy, it's not too late to ditch me if it bothers you."

Since she had no idea what he had planned, she cheerfully declined.

"Nah, free ride for me."

"No car."

"Rats, I guess I'll drive," she said, opening the door for them. The place was packed so they'd likely have to wait a while to get served. This particular place wasn't known for working very fast if the buzzing in his head was any indication.

"Lisa?"

"I'll gladly come with."

"Okay but I can be a pretty overbearing friend," he said. Lisa probably realized that by now, thanks to an unexpected Vodka binge. Amy had only gotten a taste of it before she left. From the looks of it, neither one believed he was all that bad. Amy rolled her eyes, and Lisa shook her head.

"I do not understand why you have such low self-esteem," Lisa said.

Oh, is that what she thought? She must still be having trouble understanding him. He did like giving fair warnings when he could. In the long term, he wasn't an easy friend to have. Alfred made a better short term friend, great to bring to parties and socials, not so great if you wanted more than idle chatter. It was hard to get him to think too seriously on anything unless he really wanted to.

"What gave you that impression?"

"You're choice of words."

"Let's just say that I'm extremely aware of my faults."

They were pointed out to him at least once per week. For a while, he consciously acted differently to see if they would treat him any better. Japan thought he was replaced by a robot. England tried to exorcise him. Some people mistook him for Canada. After a while, he decided some things weren't worth changing although oddly enough he got along better with Germany, Russia, and China when he did.

"Al, we don't care about that. You're stuck with us."

Ah people, often loyal to a fault, it was something that always baffled him. Countries at their root were selfish. It's how they survived so long. Luckily, they also exemplified mankind's best traits. He'd try not to let the latter show as much.

"Good, I like you two."

"Then, it's decided. Now, Alfred, Amy said you were having trouble in calculus?"

"Yeah but I hired some tutors and that seems to have helped."

The problem was taken care of. He could keep up well enough, just not at a super genius level like he was used to.

"I'm glad you've been getting help, but we can help you for free."

Money wasn't really an issue, but he did like spending time with them. He wouldn't mind seeing them more often.

"Yep, I'm good at math," Amy said. He didn't doubt it. Perfect paper model airplanes didn't make themselves.

"I would think so with the insane stuff you make."

"It's pretty easy once you understand what you're doing," she said, downplaying it.

"Everything going well in your literature classes?" Lisa asked.

"Yes, actually, it's mostly math and science I'm having trouble with surprisingly. I used to be good at that sort of thing." Of course, he didn't mention how good or how fast all that knowledge went away. As far as they were concerned, he'd been put in a higher bracket that had him learning things he wasn't as familiar with.

"We're here for you. We'll dive right in after lunch," Lisa said.

They finally made it to the front of the line. Amy ordered a chicken sandwich combo that came with fries and a drink while Lisa ordered a chicken salad and a strawberry banana smoothie. He stuck with a Whopper combo meal. They sat down in an available booth in the corner. Alfred sat next to Amy, and Lisa sat on the opposite side of the booth.

"Okay because I know it's going to come up again, no matter what I say and do, if I start going off on a tangent and ask to borrow one of your cars, don't let me. You two also have permission to confiscate the phone if I start talking to a bunch of politicians."

Part of him knew that it was a moot point asking them to do this, there was a plethora of things that could drag him back to Washington D.C. If Alfred really wanted to go, he'd rent a car, and if they really wanted to send a message to him, they'd find a way. Odds were, they couldn't keep him off the internet and that was a surefire way to stumble across unpleasant news or communicate with politicians should they confiscate his phone.

"Hmm, is your dad a politician?" Amy asked. Alfred took a sip of his drink.

"Still trying to narrow it down?"

"Yup."

"Nope, not even from another country," he said. Of course, he wasn't exactly uninvolved in politics either, but he preferred to keep his version of the truth simple. Amy was getting more astute. She picked up on one of the hints he dropped.

"What country?"

"England."

Amy's face lit up like the fourth of July. Alfred wasn't sure what had her so pumped, but it was nice to see her excited. She slapped his arm.

"Shut up, I was right about you being a British sour puss."

Alfred gawked at her. She still remembered that?

"I'm not a sour puss, and I was born here, so no on both fronts," he said.

"Aww."

He disappointment was short lived. She seemed happy that he told her anything at all. Their trays were now full of wrappers and empty packets of ketchup. Alfred decided it was time to go. He stretched and asked,"Okay, everyone ready to head back?"

"Almost, I'm going to refill my soda," Amy said, taking off to do just that.

"I'll throw out the trash, and Alfred," Lisa said.

"Yeah?"

"Remember, the world isn't going to end if you take a break," she said.

Oh, if she only understood that it just might, or at the very least, his core would implode. Prices would fall, people would end up homeless, and dust would come and swallow the land if his past experience was anything to go by.

"I guess not," he said anyway. The actual world wasn't all that fond of him, no matter how much his own little world loved him. He was ailing and there was only so much he could do at once.

"You seem uncertain."

"I'm kind of expected to be the best at everything." And if he wasn't, they tried to force improvement, often awkwardly with little success.

"Impossible- yes, we are all given some innate abilities, but all you can do is try your best, remember that," she said.

Words couldn't express how much he appreciated the pep talk where he wasn't being talked at but that came from someone who genuinely cared if he did well. He was very glad he met her and that she lived in his country. Granted, in a way, she was kind of borrowed.

"Lisa, you're awesome, never move to France." The selfishness was kicking in. Lisa compulsively touched the cross ring on her index finger. Yes, Francis was definitely on her mind. He figured as much.

"That's oddly specific."

Her face betrayed a myriad of emotions, but mostly, she was pensive, thinking it over. He didn't like the hesitation. Lisa wasn't answering, and that mean he could kiss having her around for more than an year or two.

"I have feeling you've thought about it more than once."

Lisa dumped the trash in the bin, and left the tray with the rest of the stacked trays on top of it. She gave him her most reassuring smile, and that improved his mood by leaps and bounds.

"Alfred, I'm not going anywhere. The people here need my help, and once I have completed my studies, I will help them,"she said.

Yes, she was staying in the country, ha, take that France . . . wherever he was right now. Lisa wasn't done talking.

"Besides, I would not abandon my new friend so soon," she said, eyeing him meaningfully. He understood and nodded solemnly. Maybe, he shouldn't have brought it up. What if she had planned to go to France all this time and he'd guilt tripped her into staying? She patted his back.

"Now, cheer up, I think Amy has a surprise for you," Lisa said, pointing to Amy who arrived with three ice cream cones. Wow, he hadn't even noticed she'd gotten back in line to order for them. The lunch traffic must have ended.

"I bought ice cream for everyone," she said, holding up the treats. Alfred couldn't resist. He hugged her, squishing her tight.

"Never leave me."

Making sure not to drop the cones, she accepted the hug, more than a little weirded out. He eventually let go so she wouldn't drop the ice cream cones. She handed the ice cream over, still a little out of breath. Then, Amy whispered to Lisa, thinking he couldn't hear her.

"What was that about?"

Lisa whispered back, licking the vanilla swirl happily.

"I think he might have some abandonment issues."

Alfred chose to ignore that. He _so_ did not have abandonment issues. People die. Countries come and go. Animals die quicker, thank Roosevelt for his perpetually living cat. His bunnies weren't so lucky.

"Oh, okay, we'll I'm going to travel the world eventually, but I'll always come back," she said, making sure to emphasis the last part.

Alfred didn't mind that, provided she follow one rule. He didn't care that he was being irrational and that history didn't necessarily repeat itself. It would make him feel a hell of a lot better when she left for any length of time.

"Don't go to the Pacific." He expected resistance, outrage, or at the very least follow up questions. Instead, there was a spark of recognition that he was probably imagining before she nodded.

"If that gives you peace of mind, sure, I won't go."

Relieved, he went to refill his own soda. Silently praying she'd never crash and burn again.

"He's not all there in the head is he?" Amy remarked dryly. He'd been surprisingly clingy today. She wondered if there was more to it than spur of the moment fear. Alfred tended to be upbeat. And, as friendly as he was, he didn't go around hugging people randomly either.

"Sadly, I think there are always going to be things about him that we won't ever understand," Lisa mused. The list of presidential phone numbers came to mind as did his strange impulse to constantly write on the walls or even his love and hate relationship with formal wear.

"I guess. Luckily, I wasn't planning to visit the pacific any time soon,"she said, already biting down on the cone itself, having lapped out the ice cream in minutes.

"But you were," Lisa said.

"Yeah, it's weird, but I think I left something unfinished there, even though I've never been." Amy knew it was silly, but she had a strong impulse to go there and had planned accordingly. And yet, Alfred had told her no, and she'd backed down easily. There was something about his tone that had swayed her, along with her own deep seated fear. He knew something she didn't, and she wasn't confident enough to challenge that. Besides, it's not like she'd be off the ground soon.

"No, I've had that feeling as well. It's why I went to France, and now . . . I " Lisa said, sounding like she wouldn't be heading to France a second time before Alfred interrupted.

"Sorry about that, I must seem kind of crazy to you both, but I mean well, honest," he said.

"No harm done, I don't mind that you're a little eccentric," Lisa said, and Amy knew she could forget hearing the rest of her misgivings, at least not for a while.

"Yeah, so what if you are a little crazy, the best people are, you know," Amy said, not all that bothered by his mood swing. He seemed fine now.

"I love you."

Amy dropped her soda. She didn't even try to pick it up. The people around them watched with mild interest, glad for the free entertainment. Forcing a smile, she elbowed Lisa.

"Wow, you're right. He says that to everybody."

Lisa didn't seem to get she was trying to lighten the mood.

"Actually, he said monsieur Bonnefoy loved me."

Alfred waited, and she felt a colossal amount of pressure to answer back. She punched him in the arm. He stared back blankly not expecting that after well_ that. _

"Oh then, uh, thanks, you're great too, " she said. Never had she so spectacularly failed to make the situation less awkward if anything she had made it worse. Alfred gave a little sad smile, picking up her fallen soda and chucking it in the trash bin. One of the employees scrambled to go mop up the mess now that they were clearing out.

"We should get going."

Her brain wasn't working at maximum capacity, and she barely managed to string words together.

"Right, study good, blurting out things bad, let's just go," she amended quickly. The sooner they were out of the public eye, the better she'd be able to cope with what just happened. Wishing to bolt with all her might, Amy willed herself to move. Lisa stopped her in her tracks, before she could take a step forward, keeping a firm hold on her shoulder.

"We need to go to the bathroom, right Amy?"

"No I- I mean, yeah, we'll be right back."

Neither needed to go to the bathroom room or even freshen up, Amy realized fairly quickly that Lisa wanted to talk to her in private, and this was the easiest way to get away from Alfred. She had one big question on her mind after that excruciating experience.

"Did I hurt his feelings?"

"Maybe, I'm not sure. It could be that he's a little embarrassed and just wants to forget he said anything," Lisa answered honestly.

Amy hoped that was the case. If they were both embarrassed by his out of the blue declaration of love, the situation wouldn't repeat itself. However, if he really meant it, she had just crushed his soul in the most tomboyish way possible.

"I hope so. I would have said it too, maybe, but I've noticed he has some control issues, and I want a partner not an overlord," she admitted.

Lisa nodded, mind far away and reflective. Had she realized it too or was she humoring her?

"Try not to feel pressured, I doubt he meant to put you on the spot like that. You've only known him a few weeks," Lisa reminded her. She was right of course. He had no business, saying something like that so soon. Then again, he'd hinted that he might already have a house picked out, and the idiot had probably named their hypothetical kids too. Amy suddenly didn't want to leave the bathroom. He might say it again. She didn't understand what was going on in his head.

"Then, why did he say it?" Maybe, Lisa knew.

"As you've seen, he is very impulsive. Odds are, he felt it at that moment and simply said it," Lisa said.

The answer was too simple. They were friends. She had barely starting coming by again a few days ago. Even if she felt those feelings, this wasn't the right time, and certainly not in a Burger King. Ugh, he would tell her something like this in a Burger King.

"But why? We're all getting a long, and then, this happens," Amy said. Now the war zone would be replaced by a deep suffocating awareness that Alfred was more smitten than he led on.

"Nothing has to change, I would pretend it didn't happen, unless he mentions it again, or you're sure you'd like a relationship with Mr. Jones," Lisa said.

"You're right. He was just excited about the ice cream, and it slipped out." The idiot probably didn't mean it. She didn't want him to mean what he said. Things were fine the way they were right now.

"I'd probably do the same if he brought chicken wings or something. So, really, it's Burger Kings fault," she rationalized further. Yes, they should boycott Burger King. Judging from his earlier reaction, it shouldn't be hard to convince him not to come here ever again.

"Amy, you don't have to justify anything that happened. I only wanted to make sure you were okay before we left since we will be spending several hours in the same room together."

Their study group suddenly didn't seem all that appealing. They would be stuck together indefinitely, pretending nothing happened when they knew for sure that something did. On top of that she would have to explain sine and cosine along with the rest of the calculus jargon while the incident replayed itself over and over in her head. Amy wasn't ready to attempt that.

"Oh man, I didn't even think about that."

"You don't have to stay. I can drop you off at home," Lisa offered.

"No, it's okay." Amy wasn't sure why, but she felt it was better to rip off the band aid than to fret over how painful it would be. The sooner she faced this, the less likely she would be to hide for another few weeks.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah totally."

Her confidence was undermined when she threw up in the trash can after their talk. They stayed there for another ten minutes, waiting for Amy's breathing to steady. Lisa still couldn't convince her to go home. When they left the bathroom, Alfred was still standing there, patiently waiting for them to come out. He was definitely relieved they'd returned. Amy hoped she didn't look as sick as she felt.

"Ready to go?" he asked. His eyes were wide as saucers, and he was hunched over as if he was cold. There was a melancholy air to him. She had bummed him out. There was no mistaking that.

"I love you too," she blurted out. Instead of being sad, he was confused, completely and utterly confused. He was about to say something when Lisa interrupted.

"Amy, bathroom now," Lisa wasn't so polite this time. She practically dragged Amy with her.

"But we just went to the-okay," she agreed when she noticed Lisa's glare. The girl was thoroughly ticked.

"What was that?"

"I panicked. He looked sad," Amy said pathetically. She had no real excuse.

"How do you think he's going to feel if you take it back?" he hissed.

Amy couldn't do that. He would be even sadder, and the following study session even more awkward and unbearable. Besides, it wasn't honestly something a person took back unless they were on a sitcom.

"I can't take it back, now. It's out there," she said, gesturing to area around them. It would have been more effective if they weren't in a bathroom.

" Fine, let's just go before we run out of time to actually have a study date," Lisa said, turning truly cold after all the back and forth panicking on her part. Another terrible thought occurred to Amy after she said those words.

"Oh man, what if he asks me on a real date?" Amy asked.

Aggravated, Lisa sighed, pushing the door to the bathroom open roughly so it ricocheted shut before Amy could follow her out.

"You brought this on yourself. I'm done giving you anymore advice," she said from outside the door. Weary of leaving the bathroom, she popped her head from the bathroom and asked, "Do you think if I say no he'll take it the wrong way?"

Lisa shook her head again and forced the door open all the way.

"He hasn't even asked you anything yet, breathe."

Amy nodded, finally leaving the bathroom. At this point, Alfred waited by the exit door, eager to leave. If he still felt down about what happened, he didn't show it.

"So, can we go now or is there some sort of girl bathroom ritual I wasn't aware of?" he asked. Amy almost retreated to the bathroom again. Lisa grabbed her by the arm.

"Come on Amy."

"Finally," Alfred said, leading them out. He noticed the silence instantly.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes, but I don't want to date you." Gah, why did she say things? He'd clearly forgotten what happened. Lisa flew off the wall.

"Amy! Why can't you shut up?" she snapped. Alfred laughed nervously.

"Obviously, I made you really uncomfortable. I do love you, but it's complicated and we're kind of making a scene. So, don't panic. I understand if you don't feel the same way," he said, fairly mellow about the whole affair since the last time she had caught a glimpse of his emotions. Thank the heavens, Alfred was a tumult of emotions, constantly firing at them without warning.

" What a relief, I mean Alfred you're awesome, but you're kind of a control freak," she said. Grinning from ear to ear, he shook his head.

"Nuh uh."

"You just told Lisa and I not to leave the country, and implied, you would drag us out of bed to vote on election day."

Alfred shrugged, whistling innocently as they walked to the car.

"Maybe a little," he said after a while.

"Things have escalated to a worrying degree. Perhaps, we should reschedule?" Lisa suggested.

"That won't be necessary. Unless, you want to cancel Amy?"

"No, you're learning math," she said, shoving him in the front seat. Alfred snapped his fingers.

"Darn, foiled again, how will I ever make time for my video games?" he huffed, crossing his arms. Amy was feeling a lot more comfortable now that her initial freak out had ended. He wasn't treating her any differently, and Alfred was still the same as ever.

"Psht, when I'm done with you, you'll be able to make your own video games," Amy vowed.

"Very well, we'll start with Calculus. Now, on what question are you on?" Lisa asked.

"One," Alfred mumbled.

"But you've been seeing a tutor, I don't understand," Lisa said, turning on the car engine.

"I honestly haven't tried to do them myself. In case you haven't noticed, I've been a little distracted,"Alfred said.

No one wanted to bring up what happened again. Luckily, Lisa had regained her calm demeanor because Amy had been thoroughly terrified of angry Lisa.

"Okay, so, we'll show you the steps and then, you should be able to figure it out."

The car trip was silent until Alfred spoke up.

"Lisa?"

"Yes, Alfred?"

"I love you too."

"Okay, he does say it to everybody,"Amy said. Lisa looked at him incredulously, and he was quick to explain himself in case he was misunderstood.

"I just want you to know that I care about you too, and I'm sorry about what happened in Burger King," he said, apologizing to them both.

"Oh Alfred, we both care about you, but just stop dropping the L-bomb,"Amy said, answering for Lisa.

"The would be nice, I've had a quite enough or your school yard crush on each other," Lisa said.

"Okay,"Alfred said, voice cracking slightly. Amy could have sworn he was the tiniest bit red. He hid his face too quickly to tell. Then again, the fact he hid his face at all gave him away.

"Good, let's focus on math," Lisa said.

Unsurprisingly, the study session proved unproductive, and they had to reschedule. Once he was alone, he tried calling his brother three times, but ultimately chickened out and hung up when Matthew picked up. Completely distracted, he burned himself three times while trying to cook before returning to the damn Burger King to get more food. Then, he did homework before getting stuck on problem number three. In the end, Alfred went to bed early and dreamed of finely crafted paper air planes all of which crashed in a fit of flames. He woke up screaming.


	16. I'm Not Feeling Well

I'm Not Feeling Well

A definite hot prickling pain shot through him as his whole body seemed to burn. The unwelcome pain left him unsettled. There shouldn't be pain. Nothing was wrong. Someone would have called him if something was wrong, he reasoned. He breathed heavily, willing the burns to disappear. What was burning? His eyes narrowed. Who was dead? The phone rang.

He didn't answer right away. Alfred was too rattled for that. He checked the time, definitely too early for one of the girls. Hands shaking, he picked up the phone. He shook his head. Suck it up Alfred. You've been through this before.

Calm, careful, and collected, the president spoke. Not everything registered. Some of it didn't make sense. There was an influx of information and feelings. They were all telling him different things. Who was right? Who was wrong? His entire body trembled as his hidden strength begged to be utilized. He squeezed the phone case too hard. It cracked.

"Why didn't you tell me about this beforehand?"

The answer wasn't surprising, and if he had been in a better mood, he would have laughed. As things stood, he wanted to punch the wall and chuck the phone through the resulting hole. Instead, he closed his eyes and let his head rest on the headboard.

"You didn't want to upset me because of today's date. It's a little late for that."

This had to mean something. Some deity or other couldn't have possibly decided he was meant to always suffer this time of year. And yet, why? Why did he never see it coming? What did they fail to tell him this time? No matter what he did, someone was always careless. Someone was always _human_ and he couldn't stop that.

"Look, I know I'm not living at the White House anymore but . . . "

Please tell me if you need something. Please don't stop talking to me. I can still help you if you need it. Ugh, he didn't want to sound like the adult. The president spoke and redirected his thoughts.

"You want to know what I think should be done?" The question was impossibly hard for him to answer, but he answered anyway.

"I don't care what you have to do, just get them out of there," His response was instinctive, simple, and ultimately futile. Of course, they would evacuate. They were confused, not stupid.

Luckily, the president didn't feel the need to point that out and reassured him that arrangements were being made to do just that. America breathed a sigh of relief. However, short lived. The burning sensations across his back were too constant for him to relax.

"Thank you. Yes, I'll get some rest." He kept his tone light and ignored the surprisingly sharp pain. He was the last thing the president needed to worry about right now.

For once, his acting prowess failed him. His boss's tone changed from its usual practiced calm to one of genuine worry. Alfred winced. The president had noticed. Oh well, no use trying to hide it if his boss could tell something was off just from hearing him speak.

" Am I in pain? Yes, my back feels like its on fire, and I don't think it'll stop anytime soon," he admitted. The president's suggestion was less than stellar.

" Take an aspirin, gee, never would have thought of that," he said, sarcasm thick and as far as he was concerned, warranted.

Obama apologized and again told him to get some rest. The president tried to hide it, but Alfred picked up the frustrated desperation in his voice easily.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just . . . Okay. I'll talk to you later."

Alfred sighed, the president cutting the conversation short didn't help ease his nerves. Damn it, he should be better under pressure than a gangly teenager. And yet, he might as well be if he was going to lie in bed all day. Mind made up, America launched himself forward and immediately felt the consequences of the sudden lurch. The stinging sensation was like a million tiny firecrackers on his back.

Ow. America's eyes watered as he clenched the sheets to keep from crying out. A few burns shouldn't be causing him so much trouble. He was better than that. Taking a deep breath, it finally dawned on him that he didn't need to get up for a few more hours and sunk back into the mattress accordingly. Alfred couldn't fall asleep, knowing what he did. Too many things could go wrong if he shut his eyes. He could wake up bleeding, miss an important phone call, or worse.

After some quiet deliberation, he took his phone from the counter and placed it next to his pillow. There, he should be able to hear the ringing and wake up if they needed him. Closing his eyes, he put the unpleasantness behind him, at least for a little while. He dreamed of ringing phones and smoke.

When he woke up, Alfred had the phone cradled to his chest. Setting the phone aside, he rubbed his eyes and tried to make the tired feeling go away. The grogginess didn't cease, and Alfred begrudgingly stopped rubbing his eyes and yawned, aware of a subtle throbbing ache along his back. He should probably try to deal with that. At least, it didn't feel like he was going through some hellish form of acupuncture anymore.

" Urgh, Tony where is the ibuprofen?" he shouted.

Of all the things that he could have misplaced, it had to be something useful. Tony entered the bathroom and watched as Alfred scrambled to find this supposed miracle cure. The alien tapped his shoulder. Alfred sighed.

"No, I'm not feeling passive aggressive." Of course that was a lie, but he wasn't about to tell Tony that. Unfortunately, this time Tony had evidence. He held up Alfred's phone and waited for an explanation.

"Why did I turn off my phone? They don't want to talk to me, and I don't want to hear any excuses," he answered. The stupid alien waved the phone in Alfred's face. Knowing he wouldn't let up, Alfred sighed.

"Yes, I know it's not the other countries' fault. The situation is being taken care of. It's not my problem anymore."

After rotating the same bottles around over and over again for a ridiculous amount of time, it became clear that he wouldn't miraculously find the ibuprofen in the bathroom cabinet where it should be. Alfred gave up and started making his way into the kitchen to check there. Tony pointed to his contact list. Alfred shook his head and confiscated the phone.

"No, I don't want anyone to come over. I can take care of mys-ahh . . . Tony, I swear if you hid the ibuprofen, I will hand you over to the first alien conspiracy group I find," he hissed, resenting the alien's smug look. Truthfully, he had thought the worst was over, and now, more than ever, he wished he could find the damn ibuprofen.

Someone knocked on the door, and Alfred had a pretty good idea of who it was, sort of. He lacked focus and couldn't concentrate on the sound. That, and he didn't care enough to find out. America wanted to be alone and continue his quest for drugs or at least some sort of placebo.

"Dammit, Tony which one of the girls is it?"

Tony made a cross with his fingers. Alfred's face fell. Of the two girls, she was the one most likely to baby him, and Alfred would rather tough it out than deal with that.

"Of course, it's Lisa," he grumbled.

The universe wanted to torture him. Oh well, he was two hundred and thirty-six, somewhere along the line he had done something that would warrant such punishment. Besides, if he lied, Alfred might be able to get past this ordeal without getting Lisa involved.

"Okay, how do I look?"

Tony faked a spasm attack. America's shoulders slumped.

"Like I'm in intense pain, great, maybe, she won't notice?"

Tony shook his head. Alfred frowned, looking at himself in the mirror. Depending on how fast he could work, he could probably put some foundation on and hide the bags under his eyes. Did he even pack that? He did have a pair of sunglasses somewhere in his room. Or would that be painfully obvious? There was a second knock, and Alfred couldn't wait any longer. He would have to go as is.

"Hi, Lisa, this isn't a good time," he said, leaning heavily on the door for support. Lisa tilted her head, and examined his features. Alfred tried to keep his smile natural, but he had to keep extending it to keep himself from wincing.

"Are you okay? It looks like you've been crying."

"No, o-of course not, I'm just a little tired so if we could just reschedule that'd be gr-ahh."

Darn. In an effort to shut the door on her, he'd moved too quickly. Nonplused, she frowned as he panted and attempted to straighten his posture without provoking his injuries.

"Ahh?"

Since he'd crumbled like a cookie at the first sign of pain, he didn't bother lying and downplayed his injury. After all, it wasn't that serious. America could function just fine, and he would feel a lot better once he found the damn ibuprofen.

"Ignore that, I just woke up with some back pain, nothing you should worry about," he said.

Lisa remained skeptical, particularly when Alfred couldn't stop himself from shaking even while leaning on the door. Alfred sighed. He was only a little muddled. She checked his forehead. Alfred pouted. He didn't have a fever.

"Have you taken any medicine?"

Ah yes, his never-ending quest for drugs.

"Well, I'm trying to find the ibuprofen," he answered honestly. That should be enough to dull the pain a little while he went on with his day.

"That's all? I'll call Amy and tell her to pick up some things. Lay down, you should be resting,"she said, grabbing hold of his arm so she could guide him to the couch. Alfred resisted. He didn't need either of them around.

"But, I'm fine." He really was. What was a little pain in the grand scheme of things? He'd gone through this before on a much greater scale.

Lisa smirked and slapped his back with her free hand. Caught off guard, he folded like a piece of paper and held onto her.

"Ahhhh, shoot, Why?"

"You said you were fine," she said, feigning innocence. Alfred narrowed his eyes. She wasn't as angelic as he originally thought.

"Point taken but don't call Amy, I don't want her to see me like this," he begged, knowing he would only get more irritable as the day passed. He didn't handle pain well.

"Nonsense, you look fine," she said, helping him onto the couch.

"No, I'll end up snapping at her. I'm not in a good state of mind right now," he said, happy to sink into the sofa's depths. Maybe, he could just sleep it off. Sometimes that worked.

Sitting next to him, she put a hand on his knee, and Alfred braced himself for the inevitable question that would follow.

"Do you want to talk about it? "

"The whole world hates me and is waiting for me to die in a fiery hell," he answered frankly, not bothering to sugar coat it.

"I'm sure that's not true. You need to stay positive. You are a good person," she told him. He smiled. It's sweet that she really believed that.

"No, I'm not."

As much as it pained him to admit it, Alfred couldn't even act like a good person, at least not for very long. He was a country, and he'd been reminded of that in the most brutal way possible. Of course, Lisa wasn't about to give up on him. She grabbed him by the shoulders and did her best to cheer him up.

"Yes, Alfred, you are. I have not known you long, but I feel you have potential to do great things."

Laughing bitterly, he shook his head. She was about fifty years too late. He didn't think he could change the world anymore. These days, he was only trying to live in it.

"I've already done all the great things that I'm ever going to accomplish."

Hugging him tightly, she immediately scolded him, "Don't think like that."

Alfred let himself be hugged, but he honestly didn't feel any better. Sore and tired, he simply wanted to climb into bed and avoid this conversation all together. All this talk only served to remind him how out of touch he truly felt.

"Why do you care?"

"I think there is a reason we found each other. I want to help you," she said.

Knowing that made him feel worse, Lisa's old instincts were kicking in, and if he indulged them, Alfred would only be distracting her from real problems she could actually fix. He ended the hug, pulling away from her.

"Oh no, really, don't waste your time on me."

Pushing her away didn't work. She grabbed hold of his hand

"Please listen to me, I may not know what has made you terribly sad, but surely, your family loves you," she said.

"Actually, they're manipulative backstabbing vultures," he said, without a trace of remorse. They could and would turn on him. And if he were honest with himself, he had done the same to them multiple times.

"You don't mean that," she said.

Alfred smirked. If she understood how liberal countries were with the word family and how badly they all mistreated each other on a regular basis, she could understand his view of them a lot better. Hmm . . . maybe, he could indulge in a little story time?

"Would you like to hear more about it?"

"If you think it will help," she said.

Yes, he had her attention. He nodded eagerly. Alfred had many stories to tell, and he wouldn't mind getting an outside party's reaction. As he made himself comfortable, the raw skin on his back burned, even on the soft suede fabric of the couch. Not wanting to get up, he grinned sheepishly and decided he could use a hand.

"Could you get the ibuprofen first please?"

Sweet understanding Lisa lightly patted his back and nodded.

"Sure, right after I call Amy."

Taking the phone out of her satchel, Lisa started scrolling down her contact list. Alfred knocked the phone out of her hand before she could press the call button. The phone landed with the thud on the soft carpet, completely unharmed. Startled, she looked at him incredulously.

"No really, you don't understand what happens to me when I feel attacked," he said, quite serious. Alfred did not want to take his anger out on the wrong people, and he had a feeling that he'd be more likely to yell at Amy.

"Who attacked you? I will crush them," Lisa said, grabbing hold of his shoulders as she changed gears in a way that he did not expect. Alfred had never seen her so angry nor had she ever promised such violence on anyone. What could he say that would sound sane? Alfred couldn't think of anything that wouldn't lead to a tangled web of lies.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up. It's complicated."

Lisa's grip on his shoulders increased. Alfred winced. There really wasn't anything he could say.

"I want a name now."

A name? He didn't even have a vague idea who he should be angry at right now.

"I . . . Ah, please stop,"he said, grabbing hold of her wrists. Finally realizing that she was making the situation worse, she let go.

"I'll get the medicine and make you some soup, try not to move," she said, softly, leaving him be for a while.

"Thank you."

"Any time Alfred," she said, taking a soup packet from the pantry and a pan from one of the cabinets.

And, just like that, the tension ebbed enough for him to settle down. He lay flat on his stomach to give his back a break and finally noticed the ibuprofen sitting on the floor with a note attached to it. Reading the note, he scowled.

**Went home, here is the medicine you were looking for. I hid it in your underwear drawer. **

** Take care of yourself,**

** Tony **

"I found it. You can go home now," he shouted.

By now, Lisa had the water set to boil and smiled.

"Weren't you going to tell me a story?" she countered.

Popping some pills in his mouth, he nodded. Alfred might as well go through with it, telling a story should help keep his mind off things he couldn't do anything about.

"I guess I should start with the big one. You see, for the longest time, I lived with my mother, and I was happy, but then, I met this man in the woods and everything changed."

The more he talked, the less he actually wanted to keep going. Story time had been a horrible idea. He'd kept it short, but she was obviously horrified by the things she did hear. Before he could clarify that it wasn't all bad, the door bell rang. Lisa opened it, not bothering to hide her current distress. Amy didn't seem to notice.

"Here's the eastern medicine hoopla you asked for," she said, handing her some bags that appeared to be from a new age store in the area.

"Thank you Amy, I appreciate it," she said stiffly. Amy shrugged and made her way over to him.

"I heard you were in a crummy mood, so bought some stuff to help cheer you up," she said, holding up her pack. Alfred frowned. Right, because all he needed was something to distract him like a kitty cat with a ball of yarn.

"Can any of it delete an offensive YouTube video?" he asked.

More than a little confused, she sat on the floor and dropped her bag next to him.

"Umm, no."

Alfred buried his head in one of the couch pillows and ignored her.

"Then, it's not going to help."

Lisa jumped in, reverting back to her knight of Templar personality.

"Is someone harassing you online? Amy get his computer. We can probably track down the IP address."

Previously at a loss for what to do, Amy saluted and took his laptop from the coffee table. Panicking, he slowly sat up and confiscated the computer. Considering he had one of Amy's childhood photos as his desktop image, he didn't want them anywhere near it. Mostly because that happened to be the least incriminating thing on there.

"No, please stop trying to help me. I just need to clear my head."

"Fine Alfred, but I will get involved if this continues," Lisa said. Her suspicions if anything heightened by his denial.

"Look Alfred, a slinky, see, it goes back and forth and back and forth and well, you get the idea," she said, attempting to lighten the mood.

Taking the slinky, he smiled and started playing with it.

"Thanks, you didn't have to bring me anything."

Digging something out of her backpack, she pulled out a familiar red square.

" I also brought an etch e sketch. See, it's a bald eagle," she said.

"Why a bald eagle?" he asked casually.

"Well, it's kind of obvious from your decor the sort of stuff you like or it was," she said off handedly.

Alfred laughed. Thanks to the crayon walls, the apartment looked more like a kindergartner had taken over the house. Satisfied, she'd cheered him up successfully. She shook the etch-e-sketch and turned the knobs to create something else.

Under normal circumstances, Alfred would have leaned over and taken a peak, but he wasn't about to risk agitating his back.

" What are you drawing?"

Instead of indulging him, she shushed him and kept going. A little annoyed now, he very carefully leaned forward to get a closer look. Noticing his not so subtle attempt to spy on her, she smirked, taking the time to add some finishing touches before showing him the final product.

" It's you."

"Hey, that's a pretty impressive thing to draw on an etch-e-sketch," he said. Young kids mostly used the thing to make a couple of scribbles and shapes on it before getting bored and shaking the screen.

"Feel better yet?" she asked. Alfred blinked. He'd honestly forgotten to feel miserable for a while.

" A little but mostly because you're both here, gives me less time to think about the bad stuff," he said. Admitting that there was indeed bad stuff to be worried about seemed to make Lisa even more anxious and she had trouble keeping her face passive. Again, Amy either ignored the implications or didn't catch the confession.

"Aww, here, have a sticky hand," she said, holding up a packaged sticky hand. Huh, she must have stopped by a dollar store or something.

"Thanks, now, I'll be able to slap people at a distance,"he said, ripping the carton off and attempting to slap her with his new toy. She giggled.

"That's the spirit. Also, since you're having back problems, I got you one of those plastic grabber toys," she said, pressing the button to demonstrate the faux robotic's hands capabilities.

Yup, she definitely stopped by a dollar store, and yet, he probably cared more about these gifts than some of the more expensive presents the other countries gave him on his birthday every year.

"I love you."

Even if she wasn't quite the same, she still knew how to cheer him up. And, he didn't think another thank you would cover it.

"He used the L-word again," Amy groaned, more annoyed than petrified this time. Alfred counted it as an improvement. He was wearing her down.

"Just ignore him, he'll probably end up saying it a lot once the drugs kick anyway," Lisa said. Alfred wrinkled his nose. His kitchen was starting to smell awfully funny. What exactly were they planning to put into his system?

"I thought we were going to try some of that eastern medicine stuff?" Amy said.

" Yes but it still might leave him kind of loopy. I've never tried these remedies before."

Wait, Lisa's never even tried this stuff before? Why did he have to be the guinea pig? Amy thought nothing of it, and shouted, "Okay."

Trusting Lisa enough not to poison him, he took a deep breath and let his mind wander to Amy. She was only two years away from being out of his sight, and then, who knows how long it would take her to branch off and leave for good. When she did, she was bound to take risks if her predecessor was anything to go by, and the world wasn't looking as safe as it did twenty four hours ago.

"Eep," Amy squealed as Alfred snuck up on her and grabbed her by the waist. Miraculously, she had the foresight not to squirm and make him lose his balance. That would have completely totaled his back.

"Don't leave."

Hanging limply in his arms, she pointed to Lisa.

"But I was just going to the kitchen."

" I mean don't leave the country."

Still lost but willing to reassure him, she patted his cheek.

"Alfred, I'm still learning to fly a plane. I'm not going anywhere."

Alfred was more worried about the future than the now. It had been a while since he was friends with someone that wasn't guaranteed some level of safety because they knew him.

"Eventually, you will." And, he hated even considering what she might do this time, now that the bar was so much higher.

" Why are you so paranoid about this?" she asked.

"Because I can't protect you." Not really, he could call in some favors and have people keep an eye on her, but ultimately, it didn't take much to snuff out a human's life. He wasn't sure if he could let her go when there was still a chance she might not come back because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Tell you what, if for some reason, I decide to visit Mexico or something over the summer, come with me," she offered.

He blanched. Great, she had to pick the neighbor that hated him the most right now. Not that he had a scientific way of determining that, he was making an educated guess.

"Can it not be Mexico?"

"Why?"

Something told him that question would be plaguing him for the next couple of decades. Being what he was, he could never actually answer it fully.

"Let's just say some lady is waiting to shoot me in the foot if I come back."

Whether she would go through with the threat or not had yet to be determined, but he wasn't about to risk it. When they worked together, one way or another, he tended to screw her over, and Mexico could hold a grudge for a long time.

"Again why?"

"I deserve it."

Instead of being nonchalant about the whole thing, Amy looked troubled. Perhaps, he'd said too much. Seeing an awkward silence starting to develop, Lisa chimed in

"You must have a lot of interesting stories you haven't told us yet."

The last story he told hadn't exactly done him any favors, but he wanted to change the subject, and they probably wouldn't catch the similarities to historical events if he stayed vague.

"While you're here, I'll tell you a few."

"Okay, tell me more about your dad," Amy said.

Lisa nearly spilled tea on herself after hearing that. Yeah, he had a feeling that England's old parenting style was borderline child abuse in Lisa's eyes, and telling Amy about any of that stuff would likely garner similar results.

"You'll be here all night," Alfred said groggily. He'd rather sleep than tell her about his more pleasant experiences with Britain. He didn't like thinking back to when he was five and easy to manipulate.

"I don't mind."

Well, he probably should mention that Britain wasn't all that terrible most of the time so Lisa wouldn't tackle him down if she ever saw him walking down the street.

"I guess if you really want to hear it."

She nodded eagerly. So, he very reluctantly told some of the more heart warming moments in his life. Amy ate up and asked if he had any baby pictures he could show them. Knowing that he couldn't fabricate such a thing on the fly or possibly at all, he admitted that he didn't have any. Lisa frowned, and he was sure from her expression that Lisa's initial impression of Arthur as a bad parent had only been more deeply cemented. Oh well, he tried.

Having cleaned the spill in the kitchen, Lisa came back with the drink he'd asked for.

"Here's the tea you wanted. The soup will be ready in a little while."

Accepting the cup, he drank it heartily, lots of sugar and honey like he wanted.

"Thanks."

"Hey Alfred, is there something serious going on that you're not telling us? If we can't help you, we can contact someone that can," Amy said finally.

Shoot, he didn't want his current injuries to come up again. Nothing he could say would sound the least bit convincing, and there was no tangible way for them to help him, other than what they were already doing.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," he said, dodging the question. This sort of attention grabbing crisis only came up once in a blue moon. There really wasn't a reason to dwell on it.

"You keep saying that, but I just think you're avoiding saying what you really mean," Lisa said, ignoring the fact the soup was bubbling over in the kitchen. Sigh, he honestly felt like those soon to be overcooked noodles.

"Trust me, you're better off not knowing," he said.

He'd received a taste of their potential reactions, and Alfred hadn't taken a shine to the crazy looks or the straight up incomprehension. So really, he was the one better off if they didn't know. Without warning, Lisa punched his side. He gasped and instinctively cradled the hit area .

"Argh, dammit, why?"

" Because you're hurt, stop pretending it's no big deal. I don't want you to think that you have to do everything by yourself," Lisa snapped.

"I know, but there's always going to be things I can't share with you guys," he said, a little desperate for them to drop the subject. For once, he wasn't actually doing anything wrong, and even worse, he couldn't fix the issue even if he wanted to. They just wouldn't understand. He'd seen that first hand with Lisa.

"What secrets are you keeping?" Amy asked.

"The kind that let me talk to you guys like a human being," he said, not quite saying what he actually wanted to say. Because saying he was America was like saying he was a whole other person and he didn't want to start over.

"Alfred, what do you mean by that?" she asked, and Alfred couldn't spit it out.

The sudden silence made Lisa more aware of her surroundings, and she finally realized the mess that was happening in the kitchen. She swiftly made her way to the stove and turned it off. After that was taken care off, she returned with her herbal recipes and somewhat edible soup.

"Here, Alfred take this medicine and eat this soup."

Taking a whiff, he decided it didn't smell too bad and risked swallowing the stuff. The actual medicine tasted minty but had a wicked after taste. Alfred stuck out his tongue, and ultimately, decided he'd rather have burned soup assault his taste buds than the bitter gag inducing medicine. Satisfied that he was on the road to recovery, she turned to Amy.

"Apply this on his back. It's supposed to help with backaches," she said, handing Amy some green colored goop in a container.

"I'll put it on," Alfred said, more than a little alarmed. The last thing they needed to see was the extent of the damage.

"Don't be shy. It's just your back." she said, trying to pull up his shirt as Alfred pushed it down.

"No, please, I can do it myself," he said, unable to hide the panic in his voice.

"But, you won't be able reach back there,"Amy said reasonably.

"Trust me, I can and will," he said as he tried to pry the container from Amy's grasp without hurting her. She was being ridiculously stubborn and all his attempts ended in failure.

"Why are you being so difficult? Let me help you" she said, managing to keep hold of the container due to Alfred's limited mobility. In an unexpected move, Lisa pulled his shirt up while he was distracted.

"Alfred, why are there burn marks on your back?" Lisa asked quietly.

"Don't worry-"

"Stop saying that, this is not normal," she said.

Pulling his shirt down, he said "I fell on a hot bed of coals, happy?"

"No, because you're lying to us," Amy cut in.

Unsure how to respond, Alfred didn't answer. All he could do was lie. He was stuck, and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

Gingerly, Lisa lifted up his shirt to survey the damage. He didn't struggle this time. There wasn't a point. Taking come goop from the container, Lisa spread it across his back. He shivered. The stuff was cold.

"They burned his back. I'll kill them," she hissed.

"There is no they, per say," Alfred said, unsure how to best handle Lisa's anger. There wasn't anyone to take it out on, and even if there was, he wouldn't want her involved by any means.

"So, you burned your back?" Amy asked, helping Lisa apply the anointment.

"No," he said, feeling like a child. Dammit, he shouldn't have to explain himself. Alfred had only known them a month.

"Either you did or someone else did, these marks look very deliberate," Lisa said, outlining one of the marks with her finger. He stiffened, unable to deny that. If he was sure of one thing, what happened yesterday was no accident.

"Please, just drop it, I can't explain," he said, grabbing hold of the nearest pillow to squeeze out his frustration. The strategy was surprisingly effective. He'd have to stop teasing Canada about taking his bear with him everywhere.

"I suppose there is nothing we can do if you won't tell us what is going on," Lisa said, accepting defeat, for now anyway.

Amy continued to put on the ointment so Lisa could finish cleaning up the kitchen. Alfred had to admit that he did feel refreshed by whatever they had piled onto his back. He preferred the pleasant tingly sensation to the mild irritation he'd been feeling all day.

"Better?" she asked.

"Yes, actually. Now, I'm going to take a nap. Feel free to stay for dinner but I'm probably going to be out for at least four hours," he said.

Alfred had put off rest long enough. It was the only thing that would speed up the healing process at this point. That and taking a nap would allow him to avoid questions that they might spring on him later.

"No problem, rest," Amy said, pulling his shirt down and patting his head.

"Mhmm," Alfred mumbled, laying back down. At least, the worst was over.

Like a two-ton bear ready for winter, Alfred sank into a deep sleep, seconds after he closed his eyes. Just like that, all of his previous anxiety seemed to melt away. Amy wasn't sure what to make of it. He seemed fine now, but dammit, why did Alfred make life so complicated? After all the hints he dropped, she was sure that more was going on than he was telling them, and from the sound of it, he was dealing with it alone. The situation hit too close to home. She wanted to do something to help him out.

"So, any changes?" Lisa asked.

"His temperament seems to have improved, but I don't think the medicine is strong enough to make him all wonky so that's good," she said, glad that he didn't get loopy enough to start spouting I love you's everywhere. She was a little afraid she'd throw up again.

"I'm worried," Lisa said, getting right to the point.

Amy had noticed her getting a lot . . . more aggressive. Sure, she was worried too, but she didn't know enough to assume that he was in as much trouble as Lisa thought he was in.

"I know, but all his neighbors love him, and I haven't seen anyone at school do anything to him," she said, trying to calm her down and possibly start narrowing down the potential culprits. For all she knew, they might have to take a trip to Mexico and ask the crazy lady with a shot gun before they figured anything out.

"I think it might be someone in his family," Lisa said.

"No, really?" Amy said, a little skeptical after meeting his perfectly sweet brother.

"He said they were manipulative backstabbing vultures."

Then again, there was that thing she heard about their dad stuffing kids into closets. Maybe, Lisa wasn't that off the mark?

"Seems to fit with what I heard, I vote we keep an eye on him and monitor who comes and goes," Amy suggested.

"It won't interfere with your studies?" Lisa asked.

Amy shrugged. She was on top of things, and there was no mandate that said she had get her work done at home.

"I can adjust."

"Good, looks like we're joining forces," Lisa said. They smiled at each other, knowing full well that they might have nonstop bickering ahead of them.

"We're usually against each other."

"Makes our partnership more interesting," Lisa said with a wink.

The door bell rang, and Lisa went to answer it. Amy waited, sure that someone had the wrong door. Alfred didn't seem to have a lot of friends outside of the two of them and maybe, Tony. When Lisa didn't come back right away, she started to wonder what the hold up was. Could it be Alfred knew people around here other than his surrounding neighbors?

"Who is it?" she shouted.

"It's Monsieur Bonnefoy and some man I don't recognize," Lisa said.

Her answer caught Amy's attention, and she made her way over. Lisa had the door slightly ajar as if debating whether to let them in or not. They didn't seem too thrilled by the hold up.

"Do you think Mister Bonnefoy did it?"she whispered.

"No, of course not, he's a wonderful man," Lisa said.

She denied his involvement way too quickly. Amy had a feeling she was biased toward Mister Frufru pants.

"How many times have you seen him?"she asked.

Lisa bit her lip. Hah, she'd caught her.

"Once," she admitted.

Scratch what she said before, Lisa was very biased toward Mister Frufru pants.

"Sorry, I don't think we should trust him based on one time he was nice to you. What about the other one?" she asked. He certainly looked meaner than Mr. Frufru pants.

"He's in a few pictures Alfred has in the living room. He must be family too. Ever notice that all his family members look about the same age?" she said, getting distracted by a silly coincidence.

"That's not important right now. Should we let them in?" Amy asked, sure that if they were dangerous that they would have at least tried to force their way in once.

"No. I'll tell them to leave," Lisa said.

"I'm sorry Alfred is feeling sick and doesn't want any visitors," Lisa said to the bored looking pair. The one she didn't recognize seemed relieved that they were no longer being ignored.

"I'm his father, let me in. I just want to make sure he's all right" Alfred's dad said.

"Really? Then, you must be Arthur Kirkland," Lisa said, opening the door a little more to get a better look at him. Amy peeked over her shoulder. Yeah, Alfred definitely lucked out in the genetics department.

"Yes, I am. Due to recent events, I want to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid," Mr. Kirkland said irritably.

Amy sighed. This man didn't resemble the sweet picture Alfred had painted of him earlier that day. Amy wondered if she'd been lied to. Of course, he did look like the type to throw little kids into closets for no-good reason. So, maybe, he had some sort of Stockholm syndrome that affected his judgement.

"I'm sorry I cannot let you in. You are a horrible man, Mr Kirkland. Alfred told me some of the things you did, and he is in no condition to see you," Lisa said, solidifying her grip on the door in case they did try to get past her. The man scowled but didn't do much other than silently sulk. Mr Bonnefoy on the other hand smirked, incredibly amused for some reason.

"Of course, she still hates me. Francis talk to her and see if you can check on him for me since you insisted on coming to see her in the first place, " Mr Kirkland said tiredly, letting him take over.

Their strategy worked to some degree as Lisa eased her grip on the door and looked at Francis curiously.

"You came to see me, Monsieur Bonnefoy?" she asked.

Amy rolled her eyes. If something happened to Alfred because of this, she was blaming Lisa. The girl was a little too trusting of a stranger she only met once. Not that he looked particularly threatening, he exuded confidence and class. And it was for that reason alone that Amy didn't call Lisa on her carelessness. Mr Bonnefoy took Lisa's hand and kissed it. She blushed. Amy, on the other hand, wanted to slam the door in his face.

"Yes, although I am concerned for Alfred, I came to see you, ma cheri," he said.

Despite Mr Bonnefoy's not so subtle flirting, Lisa came to her senses and stepped back.

"While I am flattered, I cannot let you in" she said apologetically.

"Why the hell not? I sincerely doubt he's been bad mouthing Francis," Mr Kirkland said.

"No, quite the opposite, he says you love me, is that true?" Lisa asked casually as if she were asking him about the weather. This seemed to take him by surprise, but he recovered quickly.

"Oui, I do, but I do not understand why you would not let me see the boy whose been like a son to me ," he said.

For whatever reason, this man seemed able to play Lisa like a harp. She actually looked guilty.

"Because he is hurt, and we believe it is someone from his family who has hurt him so. I don't want to believe you would do such a thing, but I have not known you long enough to be sure you wouldn't" she answered honestly. Putting a hand over his chest, the man teared up as if he were acting out a scene in a soap opera.

"You wound me with your words, mademoiselle. I have no reason to do such a thing."

Lisa shook her head, refusing to look at him. Frankly, the man's reaction confused Amy. No guy ever acted so heartbroken over a girl he met _once. _

"I'm sorry, but this is the way it has to be until he tells us what's actually going on," she said.

"He's not going to tell you," Mr Kirkland interrupted before the Frenchman could feed Lisa another dramatic line.

"And why the hell not?" Amy asked.

"Simple, you don't need to know. I'm sure he thinks telling you lot would only make you see him in a different light and experience has taught him such things are best kept to himself, " Mr Kirkland said.

"We would understand," Lisa said.

Mr Kirkland smirked as if lording Alfred's big secret over them. She didn't appreciate it. Mr Bonnefoy also seemed put off by his attitude as he continually made a slicing motion along his neck.

"Oh really? What if I told you he's killed people before? "

Mr Bonnefoy slapped his forehead and shook his head, muttering in French. Lisa's face froze in place, unable to handle the gravity of the accusation. Lisa rejected the idea immediately.

"What? Alfred is not a killer," Amy said automatically, forgetting that killing was justified in certain circumstances. Maybe, he was a soldier, and Mr Kirkland was trying to make it sound worse than it was? She certainly hoped so. Otherwise, it explained the creepy talk they had waiting for the bus a few weeks ago.

"No, _Alfred_ isn't, shame he can't keep the act up forever," Arthur said, examining his finger nails. Amy lunged at him. Lisa let go of the door and reflexively held her back before she could get her hands on him.

"You're a stupid lying Brit who apparently throws little kids in closets," she snapped. Still keeping a firm hold on her, Lisa turned to her, surprised.

"Wait, that was true? I thought it was drunk talk, saying that earlier would have been helpful." Amy really needed to find out exactly what Lisa heard during that drunk talk. It sounded like Alfred spilled his guts and told Lisa a lot of juicy details, stuff Amy didn't even know.

The man narrowed his eyes. Apparently, he disliked being called a lying child throwing British person.

"Oh, you're the girl he keeps going on about, charming. I honestly don't see the resemblance," he said, dismissive of her in a way that didn't make her feel very good. Who exactly was he comparing her to anyway?

Mr Bonnefoy elbowed him in the ribs and whispered to him. Amy was close enough to hear every word.

"Arthur, don't wreck Alfred's friendship with these girls. They don't need to know his past. "

"So, he has killed people,"she said. Mr Bonnefoy winced, and Arthur nodded.

"Oh, so now, you think Monsieur Bonnefoy is trustworthy," Lisa said.

"I trust him more than the angry abusive Brit," Amy said, pointing an accusing finger at him. Lisa nodded and looked at Mr Bonnefoy. The man smiled at her while he slapped Mr Kirkland upside the head.

"Should we let him in?"

"I guess. Alfred trusts him right?" she asked to make sure. Lisa took a moment to think it over

"That's true. I don't think he would have taken the time to explain Francis's intentions to me otherwise," Lisa decided.

"Okay, we'll let in Francis. Arthur, go home," Amy said, directing him to the stairway.

"I will vouch for Mr Kirkland here. He may be rough around the edges, but he's a good man, and if you knew the reasons for some of his crimes, you would agree that he had reasons to act the way he did," Mr Bonnefoy said, slapping Arthur's back.

"I guess if you think it's okay Monsieur Bonnefoy, we'll let him in," Lisa said, opening the door for them. Arthur grumbled unintelligibly as they entered. Amy had to wonder what went through the angry British's man head to make him so angry all the time.

It's official. Arthur hated September. Everything simply went wrong in September. First, he had to suffer through a plane ride with Francis, and now, they had spent a good twenty minutes outside because his past had come to bite him in the arse, twice.

"So, am I going to have to put up with this bull every time I visit Alfred now?" he asked, doing a double take after he entered the apartment, to say Alfred had redecorated was an understatement. Frankly, he was starting to wonder about the boy's sanity if this is what he did in his free time.

"Try to understand. They don't know he's a country. He can't possibly tell them that angry rioters have attacked two U.S. embassies and that has left a few burn marks on his back. Can you imagine their reaction? They are only trying to protect their friend who they think is being abused," France said quietly, keeping an eye on the two girls. They were trying and failing miserably to wake America up. The amateurs simply didn't have the strength to hit him hard enough to notice, and with his injuries, they probably didn't want to try.

Arthur soon grew bored of the girls' antics and took a second look at the wall. His eyes stopped an ugly fat purple unicorn hastily scribbled onto the wall next to its far more elegant counter part. Alfred probably drew the fat one. He was always drawing strange monstrosities. Tearing his eyes away from the walls, he reconsidered his assessment of the situation. It hadn't occurred to him that Alfred wouldn't be able to tell them some excuse to cover up the incident.

"I suppose when you put it that way. I was a little harsh," he amended. France smacked him in back of the head again. Arthur shot him a death glare but didn't dare pick a fight while in America's apartment. He didn't want to be kicked out permanently if America happened to wake up at a bad time.

"And you've made it ten times worse. Why would you tell them he's killed people before? They probably think he's some sort of serial killer or something ridiculous like that," Francis hissed.

Ah yes, humans tended to jump to conclusions without thinking things through, but really, he had only wanted to make a point. And what better point to make than that?

" We can probably do some damage control. I can say I was kidding," Arthur offered. They hadn't known any of them very long. He could probably pass what he said as a joke so long as he didn't mention it again.

Francis wasn't so certain. Giving him a dubious look, he sighed.

"I don't think they'd buy that."

Oh please, France gave them far too much credit. They hadn't figured out Alfred was a country yet, and it was likely he had slipped up at least once by now. People believed what they wanted to believe, and usually, people would ignore things that affected their idea of reality. If the girls didn't want to believe Alfred was a killer, they wouldn't.

"They might if you back me up," he said.

"Fine, I'll do my best," Francis said, staring wistfully at Lisa.

The man was far too smitten for his age, especially with someone that he'd already had a go with. If it didn't work out once, it wouldn't a second time which was why he found Alfred's current selection of friends quite disturbing. He seemed to be having trouble moving on, and Arthur was having second thoughts about Alfred's little excursion being a good idea. He was regressing. Next, he might find him watching Saturday morning cartoons on the telly and calling him at ungodly hours.

They sat down in the small dining area. Their location gave them a good view of the living room and a small glimpse into the kitchen when the door was open. Both girls returned after Amy gave up her fruitless attempts to wake Alfred, and Lisa finished making tea.

"He's still sleeping, but perhaps, you'd like something to drink?" she offered. Since she'd gone through the trouble of making tea, he didn't see why not.

"Yes, thank you. Did you make some for yourselves?" he asked, finding it strange they would make a spot of tea without asking if they wanted any first. Neither Lisa or Amy had served themselves a cup, but they had mysteriously decided to leave a cup next to Alfred for some daft reason.

"No, Alfred likes tea, but I can't stand the stuff and neither can Lisa," Amy said, sticking out her tongue.

The cup of tea next to Alfred bothered him now, like a puzzle answer that had escaped him. Yes, of course, Alfred liked tea. Why else would there always be a bloody empty tea cup on the coffee table when he dropped in unexpectedly. Putting his cup down, he covered his face and sighed.

"It's like I don't even know who he is anymore."

"You're overreacting Arthur. Surely, you've noticed he tends to hide things he's insecure about,"France said, patting his back. Arthur didn't even bother to insult him.

Snapping her fingers, the red headed girl tossed in her two cents. It only served to rub salt in the wound that she picked up on Alfred's logic faster than he did.

"Oh, I get it. He told you he didn't like tea when he was in some sort of rebellious phase, and now, since it's been so long, he doesn't have the nerve to tell you he still likes it," she said cheerfully.

"How have they not figured out who he is yet? I mean they were spot on about that," Arthur said. They certainly weren't unintelligent by any means. France ribbed him in the gut. Other than an eyebrow twitch, he did not show his discomfort and continued to sip his tea.

"You were going to say something to the girls," France reminded him when he didn't react.

"Right, I was kidding about him killing people before," he said nonchalantly.

The red head Alfred was smitten with raised an eyebrow, seeming to have been thrown for a loop. Lisa simply looked relieved and didn't care to question if his original statement had any truth to it.

"So, he wasn't a soldier?" Amy asked.

It dawned on him that he preferred that explanation than outright lying about Alfred's past. He had been a soldier when he performed a majority of his kills.

"Wait, yes that's what I meant," he said.

Francis threw his hands up in the air and exclaimed," Sacre Bleu, you're bad at this."

"Well, I'm sorry for not being able to keep up with all the bloody lies we're expected to uphold," he said, not bothering to cover his tracks. If Alfred was serious about this little outing, then, they should know what to expect.

"Great, now, they probably do think Alfred is some sort of ex-murderer running from the law," Francis said, harping at him some more. He really wasn't helping the situation any as far as he was concerned.

"If you would stop saying things like that, maybe, it wouldn't pop into their heads," he sneered.

"Both of you stop yapping, I want to know the truth, but if you two are anything to go by, I'm better off waiting for Alfred to tell me," Amy said, crossing her arms.

"Yes, I agree. I can see why he doesn't like his family very much," Lisa said, taking a bite out of one of the biscuits she'd taken out of the pantry.

This brought something up that had been bothering him since he arrived. Alfred seemed to have painted him at the villain, _again_. And judging by what he had heard from others, America was definitely attached to these girls. So, he would very much prefer it if they didn't think of him as evil incarnate on the occasions he did visit, or they would become a nuisance to him very quickly. But, first, he needed to know what exactly needed to be cleared up.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing you need to know," Lisa said, shutting him out. Figures, he'd have problems with this particular girl. Still, compared to her predecessor, he found her rather cold.

"Oouu burn,"Amy said, adding her own obnoxious laughter to the mix.

"I don't like her,"Arthur stated matter of factly. Amelia Earhart had been charismatic and plucky. Amy didn't seem like anything other than a run of the mill college student to him.

"She has a point. Anything he says now will be out of hurt. He's going to have unresolved feelings about all this until some sort of resolution is proposed," France said, once again stating the obvious in an attempt to be the voice of reason. Bah, he hated his holier than thou attitude.

Still, he brought up an interesting point. America could be a real brat at times, and he had to wonder if these girls had any idea of just how bad he could get. Considering the nature of the attack, he could see how the resentment might linger and combine with some of the other unpleasantness sure to come in the coming months. Only time would tell how much of an impact it would actually have on America's psyche when election time hit.

"What are they talking about?"Lisa wondered out loud.

"I don't know, and at this point, I don't think I want to know," Amy said.

Arthur was quickly becoming tired of these children. He had come to see Alfred, and he had no plans to stay the night, especially if England had to share a room with France.

"How long has he been sleeping?"he asked casually. No need to be rude, the girls were young and unaware of how current events tied in with America's ailment.

"Two-three hours tops," Amy said, checking her watch.

"I see. How unfortunate, perhaps, we should come back later" England said, ready to duck out. France could stay and make kissy faces at Lisa if he wanted to, but the novelty of these supposedly reincarnated young ones had long since worn off.

"Maybe you should," Lisa said.

Hmm . . . England supposed that might be exactly what the girls wanted in the first place, and if that were the case, he was better off waiting in the dining area than in some hotel room a ways away.

"They might not let us back in," France said, reflecting his own misgivings. Of course, it was idiotic to say in front of the children, but they seemed to take the accusation well. Amy turned to Lisa, wiping the crumbs from her face as she did so.

"Hey, you two aren't so bad. I'd be willing to let you back in. What do you think Lisa?"

"So long as we supervise, I don't think it will be a problem," she said, putting down her newly emptied tea cup.

Arthur didn't exactly like the implications of the two of them needed to be supervised. They were far older than these two. If anything, they were baby sitting them. He found himself becoming more and more irritated with Lisa's demeanor.

"Pray tell, why exactly are you in charge?"

"She is a natural leader. She needs no other reason," France said, dismissing the matter quickly. Lisa smiled warmly at him, appreciating the compliment.

"Thank you Monsieur Bonnefoy, but I believe Alfred truly does need my help and it is the reason we met," she said.

Arthur smirked. Lisa had no idea how much he'd hurt Francis with that innocent little remark. Eyes down cast, he gloomily stirred his tea. Arthur doubted that he would actually finish it after hearing that confession.

"I see," he said quietly.

"Looks like someone stole your savior," Arthur whispered haughtily.

"Shut up England," he snapped. Arthur's eyes widened. Francis had accidentally blown their cover.

"What was that?"Lisa asked.

"Oh, I just called him Iggy. It's his nickname, came up with it myself," Francis said, in an obvious attempt to take him down a peg. Hopefully, the nickname wouldn't catch the girls' attention.

"Cool, can we call you Iggy?"Amy asked.

"No one calls me that," he said, looking at her in a way that advised against challenging him in that department.

"Alfred and I do," Francis said, directly provoking him this time. He seriously considered pummeling him for this offense. That infernal nicknamed had finally died two months ago, and he was dooming him to repeat the cycle all over again.

" So, I can to," Amy jumped in.

"No, they're lucky I don't wring their necks for calling me that blasted name," he said, indirectly threatening France. He ignored him, knowing full well that he wouldn't attack him in front of the girls.

"But the point is, if I call you that, based on the fact that Alfred and Francis are still alive, there won't be any long term consequences," Amy replied smartly.

"I like her," Francis said, chuckling at her antics.

"Of course you do, for some reason, you mistake annoying for cute," he grumbled.

"Or maybe I'm both," Amy said, taunting him some more.

"Make her stop," he said, tired of this Amy person already.

"Amy, perhaps, you should stop pestering the horrible British man," Lisa suggested.

"I don't like her either," Arthur said finally. They were both downright irritating.

"Well, Harvard is reincarnation central, according to Alfred, perhaps you'll find someone you do like here," France said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Oh please, it's pure coincidence that these two ended up in the same university. I highly doubt that would be the case," he said. There was no magic signature that he could sense that proved such a thing. It was all mindless speculation.

"Yes, and yet, I did see you keeping an eye out for someone," France teased.

"Ridiculous," he scoffed. So what, if he'd looked twice when a familiar looking red head had walked by, he'd moved on when the girl wasn't who he thought she might be.

"Uhuh," Francis said, knowing he was lying through his teeth. And with that, the real argument started.

"They're not leaving," Amy said, watching them exhange a never-ending stream of complaints and lewd suggestions. At one point, the angry British man even choked Francis before the Frenchman fought him off. And yet as entertaining as it was, Amy still couldn't stand the constant bickering.

"No, no they are not," Lisa said.

"Should we remind them?" Amy asked. They technically didn't have the authority to kick them out, but she figured they could bluff their way through it if they needed to.

"I say so long as they don't cause trouble, we let them talk. Eventually, they will forget we are here, and they may let us know more of what is going on," Lisa said, listening carefully. Amy grinned, realizing Lisa wasn't simply being a doormat.

"You're diabolical,"she said.

"I am when I want to be, now try to keep it down," she said, putting a finger to her lips.

"Right," she said, trying her best to get the context of the situation. Eventually, the British man's rant started to make sense to her.

" I don't think she is even her actual reincarnation. I think he saw a girl with the same hair and eye color who he decided was the same person. It's Russia and that fake Anastasia all over again," Arthur said.

So far, the conversation was weird. Who did Alfred know that had red hair and . . . blue eyes? No, they couldn't be talking about her, could they?

"You heard that too right?" she asked.

"Oh my, I think we might find out more than we bargained for," Lisa whispered, attempting to blend as much as possible by holding still. Amy couldn't help but fidget. Either they were crazy or she was. Amy hadn't decided which yet.

"She's studying to be a pilot. Don't tell me that's a coincidence," Francis countered.

"They're talking about me?" she asked uncertainly.

"Apparently,"Lisa said, not phased at all. Amy was close to turning into a complete wreck. She couldn't be fake. Or is that why she couldn't-

"Yes, but I very much doubt that Amelia Earhart would have settled for only flying planes on holiday," he argued, growing more and more vehement. Francis finally noticed them staring at the two intently. He tapped Arthur's shoulder.

"Arthur."

"And another thing, America is so obviously going to go back home soon. I heard his been in a frenzy calling every congressman he can to try and stop voter suppression - bollocks, they heard all of that didn't they?" he said, finally turning to look at the two of them. Amy wasn't at all surprised when they were flat out ignored in favor of whispering to each other. The two were very much in sync.

England had messed up on so many different levels. He couldn't even comprehend how to best fix it. Sure, he'd kept hinting at the truth, but that was a far different scenario than actually blurting everything out so it was out in the open.

"For an ex-spy, you are horrible at keeping secrets," Francis whispered as loudly as he could without being heard.

"You didn't try to stop me," Arthur complained. Where was he when he really did need to be hit in back of the head? Or when he actually needed to shut up? The answer? Francis was right there to watch him sabotage himself like the horrible frog like creature he was.

"It's called discretion. I didn't name anything too specific. You might as well have shouted, yoh, Amelia Earhart, over here, you're in America's house," he said, attempting some city accent to go along with the mocking.

"Well, at least I didn't say anything about Joan of-umph" he said, voice steadily rising until France clamped his mouth shut with his hand.

"I think we should be going, thank you for the tea, and please enjoy, your non-insane future guests," Francis said, rising from his seat while dragging Arthur with him.

"Are you trying to claim I'm insane?"he shouted indignantly.

"You haven't left me much choice," Francis practically snarled, forcing him outside inch by inch.

Before he could yell at the idiot for trying to plead insanity on his behalf, his worse fear came to pass. America awoke and rubbed his eyes. Staring at them all without fully comprehending what was going on yet, he had mere seconds to figure out how to explain himself. Arthur sincerely hoped his nap had put him in a better mood.

"What's with all the noise?" Alfred muttered.

"You two are still here. I keep telling you I'm fine," he whined. They weren't obligated to stay with him if they had other places to be. The two seemed freaked, and he couldn't figure out why. Was he bleeding heavily without realizing it again?

"Wait. What are you two doing here?" he said, finally registering England and France making their way out the door.

"We came to check up on you and make sure you won't be doing anything rash because of recent events " England whispered softly as he pried himself loose from France's grip.

"No, of course not, I'm not sure what will ultimately happen though. Hopefully, they'll be able to handle it themselves, but I might step in if they don't" America said in a low tone. The girls, while curious, thankfully kept a respectful distance as they talked.

"That's understandable, and it's really the only reason we stopped by. Right Francis?" England said, shooting him a look that tipped America off that something had gone wrong in his absence.

"Yes, I do think we've overstayed our welcome," France said, playing along. Oh well, maybe, it didn't have anything to do with him, and he was just being paranoid.

"Arthur said you've killed people, that I was Amelia Earhart, and that you were really America going through some mid-life crisis," Amy blurted out without stopping once, bless her.

"Huh, I can't leave the two of you with my new friends without you freaking them out. Okay, let me explain things so they make more sense,"he said calmly. If he didn't react, they were far more likely to believe his rationalizations.

"Yes, I have killed people before. I was a soldier, but only served two years of active duty. As for the Amelia Earhart thing, I jokingly told him that you were probably her incarnation since you two kind of look the same, and you wanted to be a pilot," he said.

Not caring one bit about the other countries reactions, he concentrated on the girls. They were the ones he needed to convince. Both accepted his explanation easily, simply because they trusted his mundane explanation more than the fantastical truths England was telling.

" Also, as you already know, America is my nickname, and you shouldn't believe anything he says because he's a lying child taking bastard," he said without missing a beat, keeping eye contact with Lisa especially. Thanks to their earlier talk, this cue worked well, and Lisa relaxed. Amy, for understandable reasons, was confused about the whole thing.

"Um . . . I think I missed that talk."

"Lisa will explain."

"I am n-umph" England started to shout again before France covered his mouth.

"I'm relieved it wasn't anything serious. With everything they were saying and what we found out yesterday, I wasn't sure what to believe," Lisa said, glad to have an easier lie to swallow. Not that he blamed them for buying the lie, it made a hell of a lot more sense than the truth.

"Yeah, I was starting to freak out,"Amy said, laughing awkwardly. He hugged them both.

"Don't worry. I will always tell you what you need to hear," he said.

"Will you two wait for me in the living room? We'll watch a movie after I'm done with these guys," he offered.

"Okay! Bring popcorn," Amy piped up happily.

"That does sound nice, goodbye Monsieur Bonnefoy." Lisa said, waving to Francis.

"Goodbye Mademoiselle, I hope we see each other soon."he said, blowing her an air kiss. Alfred smiled, at least they seemed to be getting along okay.

"Arthur, please, try to be more careful with your words in the future," Lisa said, coming across a lot frostier than before. If it wasn't for his earlier screw up, Alfred would have felt a lot worse about all the hostility Arthur was receiving from Lisa. Fortunately, Arthur had alleviate him of that responsibility when he'd gone and told them he was a killer. It simply wasn't something you mention casually to anyone, let alone his new friends.

"Yes, I'll try my best to tell you what you _need_ to hear," Arthur said.

Alfred glared at him. He was not pulling that kind of crap now.

"Dad, not now," he said. Calling him dad did wonders, where before he would have argued with him a few more minutes, he took a deep breath instead.

"Fine. I'll stop," he muttered reluctantly.

"Bye Francis" Amy said.

"Bye Amy, I'm glad I've finally met the object of Alfred's affections" he said suggestively.

Ah jeeze, she wasn't exactly comfortable being the objection of his affection in the first place. Alfred really wanted to punch him in the gut and toss him out for bringing it up again.

"He talks about me?" Amy asked, sounding more curious than anything. Alfred didn't like where the conversation was heading and steered her away from Francis.

"Hey, you haven't said goodbye to Arthur yet," Alfred said, despite his better judgement telling him it wouldn't go any better than his goodbye to Lisa.

"Bye Iggy," she said, waving at him energetically.

"Ah yes, goodbye, whatever your name is now," Arthur said.

"It's Amy," she pouted.

That's it. Alfred was stealing his unicorn collection out of spite again. This time, he might even mail them back piece by piece if Arthur kept up his current snotty attitude.

"Very well, goodbye Amy. Say, is that short for anything?" Arthur asked, faking sincerity to try and make her see the connection a little better. Alfred had just about enough of Arthur's crap.

"I swear if you don't-"

"Fine, I'll stop," he repeated.

"But you never do," he said, exasperated. Alfred wasn't sure why Arthur was so eager to sabotage him, but he didn't appreciate it.

"Um no, it's not. I'll be in the living room, Al. Good luck with the angry British man," Amy said, practically running to the living room.

"What did you say about me?"Arthur asked accusingly.

"Nothing, your personality shines through like always," he remarked dryly.

"Oh please, I will always tell you what you need to hear. How did they not catch that?" England said, starting a new rant.

"Shut up, I can't believe you were this close to blowing my cover. I'm surprised they didn't call the cops on me," Alfred said, more than a little incensed. He literally had two major secrets that he didn't want out, and Arthur had even tried to keep his mouth shut about them.

"I'm sorry,"Arthur said.

"No, no you're not. That's the sad part. I want the two of you gone," he said, opening the door.

"I didn't actually blow your cover," Francis said. Alfred didn't want to lose steam before he'd kicked them out successfully. So, he made his own counter argument.

"Well, you didn't stop him either," he decided.

"See, it's your fault too," Arthur said.

Did he really just- ? Urgh, he really couldn't stand Arthur sometimes.

"Out," he shouted.

"We're leaving," Arthur said, his sour mood obvious.

"I am sorry for the trouble we caused," Francis said apologetically.

"Thanks Francis, but please, don't come back for awhile. They kind of already know that there's something I'm not telling them, and I doubt they will forget this anytime soon, " he said.

"No problem, we will keep away" Francis promised.

"And, I really was worried about you,"Arthur admitted.

Now that sounded sincere, Alfred calmed down a little.

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine really. I think being around actual people helps. You two would have just explained the situation to death," he said, imagining the lengths they'd go through to keep him from exploding. It made him glad he'd slept through most of their visit.

"Sorry, we talk to you like an adult instead of baby you," Arthur said.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that, especially if you want me to forget this happened," Alfred said, standing his ground. He wasn't in the mood to be teased, especially after waking up find all his secrets being flung around like candy.

"Very well, we will see you some other time," Francis promised.

"Goodbye you two, try and stay out of trouble" he said, mostly directing the message at England.

"We will," Arthur said as if he was being forced to say it, typical.

"Take care of yourself," Francis said.

"I try, but by God, if Lisa doesn't try to do everything for me," Alfred said jokingly.

"She grows on you," Francis said, patting his shoulder.

"I know," Alfred said.

A serious expression crossed Francis's face, full of melancholy, before switching back to his usual bravado.

"Take care of her," Francis said. It wasn't a request.

"I will," Alfred promised. He wasn't about to let anything happen to her. It didn't really dawn on him until after Arthur and Francis left the building that the promise meant a lot more than he'd assumed at the time. France had let her go. Man, he was a horrible match maker.

"Sooo, did they leave?" Amy said.

"Yeah," he said, still a little down after his little miscommunication with France. What on earth had possessed him to think he was being replaced?

"Your British dad's mean," Amy said bluntly.

"I know," he said, laughing a little.

"Is your back still hurting?" Lisa asked.

Alfred blinked. It was the first time that he'd consciously thought about his back since he woke up. He didn't feel any real discomfort.

"No, it's stopped for now."

"Thank goodness," Lisa said, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the popcorn bowl.

"Yay, eastern medicine works," Amy said, pressing the play button on the remote.

"What movie did you put on?" he asked, wondering what sort of chick flick he'd be watching since he'd left them unsupervised when they picked the movie.

"Princess Bride," Lisa said.

"Sweet," Alfred said. He could do a lot worse than a retired pirate and a bunch of rodents of unusual size.


	17. Can You Help Me?

Can You Help Me?

Truth be told, Canada did not want to visit America, but he felt obligated to anyway. He was in the area, and his brother was always too stubborn to ask for help directly. By simply being a car ride away, the job usually fell to Matthew, and while he'd never admit it, Matthew hated dealing with the insufferable hot head when he was like this. Since he'd waited a day to see him, hopefully, Matthew wouldn't have to, and America would be his usual chipper self.

And yet, he couldn't bring himself to knock on the door. What if he'd been drinking? Or worse, what if he was suffering from more delusions? Did he really want to deal with that today? Canada sighed. He couldn't really call himself the good one if he didn't make sacrifices once in a while. After knocking on the door a few times, he waited, not sure what to expect. Nothing happened. Matthew frowned and knocked again. Again, he was met with silence. Canada sighed. This trip wasn't going to be as painless as he'd like.

Okay, he did the polite thing already, now was the time to throw a temper tantrum. Taking a deep breath first, Canada charged. Twisting the knob, he discovered that . . . it was unlocked, how anti-climatic.

The condition of the room immediately told him that Alfred was in a much different state of mind than he thought. Popcorn bags and burger wrappers littered the floor, and Alfred was completely absorbed by an old ninety's cartoon.

"Man, those Recess kids are organized," America said to no one in particular. Alfred ignoring him wasn't a surprise. Canada was used to being invisible. He cleared his throat and sat down.

"So . . ." Matthew trailed off. He'd never been good at snapping him out of these mood swings.

"What's up?" Alfred said, stuffing more popcorn into his mouth. Matthew idly pictured the look on the cashier's face when he'd bought a cartload of the stuff, maybe more than that judging by the trash.

"I heard what happened." A little tactless, but it was as good a place as any to start.

If mentioning the incident bothered him at all, he didn't show it. Putting the bag of popcorn down, he clicked on the next video.

"Yeah, I didn't think I'd see you for a while, actually. Soda?"

"No thanks," Matthew said, finally noticing the boxes of six packs obstructing his view of the kitchen. That couldn't be healthy.

The time passed in slow eleven minute intervals, and eventually, enough time passed, that he actually started paying attention to the cartoon. Alfred nudged him.

"Huh?"

""You don't have to stick around if you don't want to," Alfred said, stretching before grabbing a folder from his book bag.

"That's okay. I don't mind." He was supposed to stick around. It'd be awful if he left right away, rude even. Shaking his head, Alfred smiled.

"Suit yourself, I'll be working on my lab write ups."

"Oh, so, you're not-"

"What?" Alfred asked, pen in his mouth as he juggled papers, soda, and nachos in his hands.

"Never mind." Maybe, Matthew was overreacting. So, Alfred had binged and started watching old cartoons. That didn't necessarily mean that he'd be wearing acid washed pants and platform shoes by the end of the day or anything ridiculous like that.

"Really, I'm fine. I'll see you at the meeting today," Alfred said, more interested in the assignment than his reaction. He couldn't be serious, not after he'd put out such a stink about quitting.

"Wait. You're going?"

Alfred looked up from his reports and shrugged.

"Why wouldn't I?"

So, that was that. Alfred would be forcing himself out of retirement because of one measly crisis that he couldn't have prevented anyway. Well, not if Canada had anything to say about it, he was going to follow through, damn it.

"What happened to, I quit?"

Alfred laughed and refused to look Matthew in the eye. After guzzling down the last of his soda, he wiped his mouth and answered.

"The world didn't quit with me."

Canada couldn't believe this. His brother just didn't give up. What happened yesterday had definitely left an impact, and he was suddenly more than a little worried. America wasn't coping well.

"Don't give up just because- hold on, why are you doing homework if you're quitting?" Canada asked. That didn't make any sense. Maybe, he planned to finish his work and gracefully drop out?

"I'm still going to school. I'll just go to meetings and take some calls once in a while. It's no big deal." Alfred said, shoving a bunch of nachos into his mouth.

Yeah, Matthew wasn't buying it, being a country ate up a lot of time. Alfred was making a terrible mistake, letting himself get sucked back in because one thing went wrong.

"Yeah, sure, it's not. And, I'm going to wear my pjs and fight crime in my spare time," Matthew said dryly. Alfred grinned and chugged another soda. What was that? Number three hundred and sixty-seven? Or was he aiming too low?

"Go for it," he said, chucking the empty soda can behind him.

"You can't do both," Matthew said frankly. Alfred had to see that. His brother wasn't this naive.

"Yes because being a country is soooo hard. I get an allowance, Canada, an allowance when I literally do jack squat."

Matthew winced. So, Alfred wasn't necessarily going back because he was worried. He was going back because he felt useless.

"Alfred-"

"And, the meetings? Let me tell you how it's going to go," Alfred said, watching the computer screen without really registering what was happening in front of him.

"America," Canada tried again. If only he could get a word in, maybe, he could talk some sense into him.

"Italy will mention pasta. Germany will yell. Russia will say something creepy. France will strip n-"

"Fine don't go," Canada snapped. What did they need him for if he was going to treat the meeting like a chore?

"I'm going,"America said, dead serious. Canada sighed in exasperation. He was always so freaking stubborn.

"Why?" It's really all Matthew wanted to know.

"Because, when I one day spontaneously burst into flames, I want to know why," America said callously, making his current motives considerably more morbid than Canada originally thought. He obviously needed to let go of that pent up frustration somehow, but Matthew didn't think he should necessarily take it out on their peers.

"That's not a good reason," Canada said. By now, America had stopped writing, and without his attention split, he narrowed his eyes at him and all together became considerably more confrontational.

"If it's not a good reason, set me on fire right now" he said, patting his chest.

"You know what, go ahead and watch your stupid cartoons. Oh, and just to spoil the episode, her middle name is Ashley," Canada said, getting up. This was pointless. America just wanted someone to fight. Let it be someone else for a change.

"Dammit, I didn't remember that," Alfred said, slamming the laptop lid closed. It rattled under the pressure but didn't break.

It only took a second for America to realize that Canada was leaving for good, and that turned out to be an exceptional motivator. Standing up, he grabbed his shoulder before Canada could successfully bolt.

"Canada, stay, we can car pool," he offered. Matthew wasn't really in the mood to put up with him for that long, and he had no qualms about telling him as much.

"I don't want to be stuck in the same car as you."

It was like he'd slapped America in the face. And, Canada would have enjoyed every minute of it if he'd immediately scowled and said the same thing to him, but something strange happened. His brother hugged him from behind.

"Please," America begged

Canada sighed again. He really needed someone with him today, didn't he?

"If you promise not to mention the following things in the car, we can car pool together," he said, caving like the polite Canadian people pegged him to be. At least, helping his brother was noble, right?

America grinned, totally realizing he was getting his way.

"Try me," Alfred said.

And so, Matthew took a deep breath and systematically listed everything that could potentially lead to an argument in the car or at the very least, downright irritate him.

"Terrorist, Communist, Freedom, Hope, Change, Canadia, Mattie, dude, bro and while I'm at it, no mention of any congressmen, the president, or the White House," he finished, satisfied that he'd covered his bases. America blanched, as if he'd been stripped of his identity.

"That's hard."

"Leaving," Canada said, opening the door and taking one step outside. Considering his brother was hanging off of him, it took an incredible amount of effort to do even that much. America let him go and slapped his back.

"Fine. I accept your terms, you Canadian Pansy. Now, have a freaking soda already," he said, heading back inside.

Canada was relieved that he wouldn't have to shoulder his brother's terrible weight all the way downstairs if he wanted to leave and followed him inside.

"Okay, you rat-like city dweller," he said, grabbing a soda, if only so his brother would have one less soda to give him diabetes.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, my inner New Yorker is crying. Now, let's watch everyone alienate the new kid," he said, sitting down and clicking on the next video. Matthew sat next to him, slightly peeved.

"That's horrible," he said, hating that sort of conflict, way too much needless drama.

"Of course you think it's horrible. He's you in a nutshell," Alfred said, casually, eating another handful of nachos. Matthew glared at him.

"No, he's not."

"Let's see. Raised by a military official, check, is constantly shunned by his peers for not standing out, check, wears glasses-"

"Please stop," Matthew said, more than a little put off by the comparison. He wasn't shunned per say. People just had trouble noticing him.

"Okay, but no more running commentary during cartoon time," Alfred said, returning to his lab reports. The next thing just slipped out without Matthew meaning it to.

"Sure, you nerf herder."

Alfred grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"Ha, you finally watched it."

Damn, Matthew really didn't want him to know that. He's never going to hear the end of this. And, Star Wars wasn't on the list of things he couldn't talk about in the car. Crap.

After a fairly lousy car ride, Canada was really hoping that America was no longer in a chatty mood, (dealing with America's inner Star Wars fan will do that to a person.) Canada was not so fortunate. While his brother definitely seemed to be in a better mood, Matthew could tell right away something was off. He was smiling too much in a way that reminded him of a Ken doll, too plastic. America also seemed way too eager to get to the meeting room. America tended to wait until the last possible minute to slip inside. Today, he was practically sprinting to the door. Canada braced himself for the next part and reluctantly followed America inside. This would not end well.

"Come on everybody, let's get our shit together and save the world."

Everyone looked up, honestly surprised by his appearance for once, since he hadn't been coming by lately. Luckily, while Canada had experience with America's many mood swings, America's greeting, while off putting, was still something he might say on any other day, regardless of what he was feeling, so he was easily ignored.

"Alfred, I think it would be better if you stayed out of the limelight today, you know after everything, clear your head a little," Matthew whispered, more than a little worried. This was not the best way to convince the other countries Alfred was still sane after his brief hiatus.

"Interesting, I think he suffered more brain damage than the first time."

Leave it to Russia to make the entire room uncomfortable.

"Russia, that's rude," China said when everyone else refused to speak.

Canada held his tongue and sat down. No need to add to the drama. The other countries weren't exactly jumping in and agreeing with him anyway. America, surprisingly, didn't react.

"Maybe, he just came for the Empanadas?" Spain asked no one in particular. It was really just an excuse to offer some to America. His brother helped himself to a couple and that greatly eased Canada's nerves. For now, he was quiet.

"Why don't we get started?" England suggested wearily. Canada wondered if England was picking up the same signals he was or if Arthur was just annoyed by Alfred's presence in general. Either way, England was Canada's best bet for keeping America in line if he started shooting his mouth off.

"Yes, I think that would be best," Germany said, also appearing slightly uneasy, knowing full well that an uncooperative America could easily grind the meeting to a halt. It had happened several times before.

France didn't say a word, but all the same, cast a worried glance at America. Alfred smiled lazily, not putting much effort into easing his misgivings. Since he was sitting right next to him, Japan had the luxury of whispering directly into his ear. America whispered back, and judging by Japan's sudden pale complexion, he didn't like what he heard. Canada absently thought back to the empty soda cans on America's floor, and again, had second thoughts about bringing him here in the first place. Thankfully, not everyone noticed the thick tension in the room and Italy happily announced the first order of business.

"Thank you everyone for coming, I know it is short notice, but Germany and I felt that it was important to keep in touch with everyone even when we don't necessarily have anything planned."

Under normal circumstances, it would be a welcomed relief to not rehash the same issues they always did and hang out, but America needed a distraction. For one reason or another, the universe had flat out refused to cooperate, and there would be hell to pay.

"Wow. This isn't even a real meeting. You were all just freaking bored and decided to crash at my place, nice," America said, more than a little passive aggressive.

Most of them knew better than to react, but England's no nonsense attitude worked against him, and Canada could actively see the veins popping out of his forehead.

"That is not why we're here," England said when truthfully he probably knew full well that they weren't really doing anything all that important today. It was one of those stupid "principle of the thing" moments. Arthur honestly just didn't like the fact that Alfred was being unpleasant.

"That's why Italy's here." Canada couldn't tell if he was trying to lighten the mood or not. Italy never seemed to be any good at reading the atmosphere, and Canada had a bad feeling that it was about to cost him.

"You're not helping" England said with clenched teeth.

"Technically, no one is. I don't see why we have these stupid things every month. We're not really friends, well, not most of us anyway, " America said, downing his piping hot cup of coffee as fast as if he was drinking a glass of water because his brother just didn't give a damn today. Canada really shouldn't have given him a ride.

The room went silent. Maybe, Canada didn't always appreciate how these meeting went, but one common goal kept them all coming back, and America just stomped on it without a second thought. No, they were not all friends, and thanks to America's previous dramatic exit from their way of life, Canada himself had made it quite clear that in the grand scheme of things what they did mattered little. So, it didn't surprise him in the slightest that America's words caused his fellow countries to cast uneasy glances at each other.

"China and I are friends, right China?" Russia asked.

"When I don't know you're the panda we get along okay," China said reluctantly.

Matthew winced, now was not the time to remind Ivan that he had poor social skills.

"Oh, I thought-"

"If you feel that way, why come at all?" Germany asked stiffly, getting up in an obvious attempt to intimidate America. Ludwig had dedicated a lot of time over the years organizing their get togethers, and his tone was enough to make America think twice about complaining more than he already had. Alas, it was never easy to get his brother to shut up, even when he really should.

"Because-"

Italy jumped in and interrupted America, still blissfully unaware of the tension in the room.

"America always wants to help. He's the one that suggested that we start meeting up in the first place," he reminded everyone. This reminder was enough to make Germany back off and sit down. Luckily, England held his tongue and most of the other countries while skeptical chose to remind silent on the matter, all except . . .

"And, he's also the reason our first attempt fell apart, mon ami. Not joining your own organization kind of makes said organization hard to take seriously," France added, because they had yet to reach the part of the meeting where they rehash the past, typical.

"It didn't stop World War II that's for sure," England said, for once agreeing with France.

"Hold on. You're not seriously holding that against me now, are you?" America said, sounding downright betrayed and more than a little testy. Canada knew this was a bad idea.

"Can we please not provoke him today?" he asked, and miraculously, they all heard him. England sighed and let it go. The World Wars weren't exactly happy time for most of them.

"You're right. That's all in the past now," he said tiredly.

"Thank you, I'm glad some of us are being reasonable," America said, somewhat surprised but happy that England was dropping the subject. And, maybe, they could have moved past America's snide remarks and their current potentially ugly argument concerning America's past failures but that didn't really account for England's big mouth.

"What you're doing now is a hell of a lot worse than not being a team player," Arthur said.

Canada shook his head . . . so close. Oh well, this conversation had to happen sometime. America stared at England in disbelief. Normally, England's criticism had little to do with America's administrative decisions and more to do with Alfred's personal lifestyle choices. Arthur changing tactics and addressing his more serious issues seemed to visibly shake him.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh dear, perhaps, we should get back to Italy's and Germany's agenda. I believe we were going to do some trust exercises today," Japan said, trying his best to change the subject. Poor Kiku was a nervous wreck. He could sympathize. An angry America was not in anyone's best interest.

"Yes, considering the current atmosphere, I think we could use a more constructive way to clear the air than the blame game," Germany said, shooting England a look. Arthur ignored him.

"Maybe, you like to pretend that you're all for peace, but you're part of the problem. I don't see why you can't just come out and admit it," England said, and everyone knew full well what he was talking about. America's face instantly reflected that. After a brief second of recognition, he broke eye contact first and looked at his notes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he muttered, adjusting his glasses.

"Deny it all you want, but somewhere along the way, you stopped defending yourself and started looking for potential threats wherever you could find them," England said.

On any other day, America would have sucked it up and tried his best to lighten the mood, but it was simply too soon. Alfred wasn't taking any of England's criticisms as face value but as an admission that he deserved everything that happened to him recently.

"That's it. I'm out of here. I don't need this right now," America said, hastily chucking his notes into his suitcase and standing up. Canada could see the meeting falling apart before his eyes, if America left now, it would cause a mutiny.

"America, don't leave," he said, feebly reaching for him already knowing that he had little chance of changing his brother's mind at this point. He was stubborn like that.

"You're right, Canada. I shouldn't have come. I won't be coming back," he admitted, refusing to look any one country in the eye on his way out. Canada sank back into his chair as America slammed the door shut. No, that hadn't gone well at all.

"America, you're going to miss the fun," Italy shouted belatedly, all frowns. Japan put a hand on Italy's shoulder and sighed.

"Italy, I don't think America planned to have fun no matter what happened today," Kiku said sadly Okay, so maybe, Matthew wasn't the only one who had noticed his brother wasn't all there today. For a second or two, everyone stayed in their seats as if frozen in place. Then, Ivan cleared his throat.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but Russia's bummed out. I'm taking an early lunch" he said, leaving his seat. The others were slow to respond. England was still fuming quietly, and China stared at the door in disbelief as if he'd imagined America walking out that door.

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea,"China said finally. Russia grinned, pleased that China was joining him despite Yao's earlier confession. It gave Canada hope that everything would return to normal despite the unusually long silence. The two left together, and the remaining members of the group continued to sit aimlessly. Germany was the next person to snap out of it, but the look on his face tipped him off that the shock hadn't quite worn off yet.

"Actually, I think it is best we dismiss the meeting early. America has a point. I'm sure we all have things we'd rather be doing, " Germany muttered, completely dejected.

"But Germany, we have to keep everyone together," Italy said in a sing song voice. Despite his attempts to be chipper, Italy looked quite alarmed that Germany had taken America's temper tantrum so personally. Canada wanted to speak up, but at the same time, he really didn't have anything to say that would really fix the rift America had just created in the group.

"Not today Italy, not today," he said, voice far way. He exited quietly with Italy, leaving the door ajar. Japan quickly followed suit, but not before adding his own depressing words to the pot of gloom they were brewing.

"I'm afraid that America has put us on a dark path that we may not all escape. I wish everyone well on the journey home."

"I suppose it can't be helped with America blowing hot air all meeting,"England said, realizing that there was no reason to stay if Germany wasn't going to keep them there any longer.

"On the contrary, Angleterre, Amérique may have been ready to explode since he came here, but you're the one that lit the match. I thought you would have more sense than to kick someone when they're down." France said, taking his turn playing the blame game.

"Don't you start," England said, slightly exasperated.

"I won't. There's been more than enough fighting today," France said, about as discouraged as everyone else. Canada decided not to bring up the fact that France had technically taken a jab at America first. Matthew was more than ready to leave. France grabbed him by the shoulder and shook his head. Oh, Francis wanted to talk to him still. Great . . . it's not like he wasn't already used to seeing the two of them fight a billion times a day.

" I'd apologize, but I think I'd only succeed in making the situation worse," England said, looking back at the door doubtfully. Francis smirked and smacked his back.

"You are good at that."

"Shut up France," England said, unleashing the full power of his glare. The eyebrows made his glare look twice as severe, but France didn't take him seriously at all and ushered him out the door.

"Farewell to you as well, Angleterre" he said, unceremoniously slamming the door in England's disgruntled face. A long string of curse words followed, all of which were promptly ignored by the Frenchmen, but when France turned around, his sudden mirth was gone. Looks like, Francis was the one that needed reassuring for once.

"I'm sure America will come around, eventually. It's not like this is the first time the two of them have fought," Canada said, confidently. How many times had they gone through this now? Three? Four times?

"Will you keep an eye on him, Canada? I do not think anyone else is quite up to the task," France said. He obviously suspected Matthew planned to do that anyway. So, Canada felt more than a little guilty for bailing early.

"Honestly, after that disaster, I think he'd rather be left alone," he explained, hoping his excuse was realistic enough for France not to notice his less than enthusiastic attitude about the whole thing. France raised an eyebrow. No such luck.

"Hmm, I have a feeling that you are the one that would rather be left alone, but I can hardly blame you. We do tend to pass him off to you when he's angry. Still, perhaps, some time alone will do him some good," France said, attempting to remain positive. That just made Canada feel worse, but he wasn't going to drag out the conversation any longer than he had to.

"I - thanks for understanding, I think its time I went home. It's been a while since I've had time to myself," he said, vaguely wondering if Kumajiro had managed to open the fridge and eat his entire supply of fish or not. Sigh . . . Canada really had to stop panicking every time his brother made horrible decisions, or he'd never get to leave. Of course, it would help if he answered his damn phone once in a while.

"Au revoir, Canada, take care of yourself" France said, adjusting his tie and tossing his hair back before getting his things. Canada hadn't bothered bringing anything with him since he'd expected the meeting to end disastrously but waited for France anyway.

"I will. I'll see you next meeting maybe?"Canada said, not exactly looking forward to the aftermath of this meeting. Countries had trouble letting things go. Canada's face softened. Maybe, he shouldn't blame his brother for being the same way next time it came up.

"We shall see if Germany feels up to the task. With America gone, he is the only other country willing to put together our informal little meetings. I know it may not seem like much, but these type of gatherings do count for something, Canada. They are worth preserving," France said, placing a hand on his shoulder for emphasis. Matthew looked down at his hand and sighed. He hadn't exactly helped the situation any by telling them nothing they did mattered a few months back.

"Then, maybe, it's time I pick up the slack and plan the next one," he offered. Matthew had been thinking about doing that all along so he didn't see the harm in stepping up.

"That's great, Canada, but you are not exactly known for speaking up and taking charge," France said, sounding a little doubtful. Canada frowned, a little annoyed. Ever since the Russia incident, he'd gone to great lengths to increase his visibility during meetings, but it had yet to really pay off.

"I can handle it," he said, sounding more defensive than he would have liked.

"Then, you have my full support, just remember to run it by Germany first, " Francis said, making his way toward the exit.

" I will, but I think America has caused more damage than he may even realize," Canada said worriedly. No one had honestly left in good spirits, minus himself. Canada had realized a long time ago that what they did had little to no effect on their people's day to day lives. They'd be better off volunteering somewhere for an hour. Still, killing morale was never a good thing.

"Doesn't he always?" France said with a smile. Canada smiled back.

"Yes, but I guess if there is one thing America is good at is making up for something after the fact," he said, already trying to figure out if this would be one of those times. France nodded.

"I'm sure he will. Now, let's go to lunch," he said, holding the door open for him. Canada shrugged. He'd like something to eat before getting on the highway.

"Why not? It's the closest thing we'll come to a trust exercise today," he said brightly. France laughed and Canada couldn't help but laugh too. Maybe, everything would be okay, or at least, it would be for another month.

All America really wanted to do was drive. If he thought about what happened too long, he was liable to ram this car into the next unsuspecting schmuck he came across. He'd panicked and let his fears and insecurities get the best of him. He'd acted like a petulant child and wasted everyone's time. How could he have been so stupid?

"Well, that went brilliantly." Shit. He was the last person Alfred wanted to see right now.

"Not you again, you don't exist. Stop bothering me," Alfred said, more than a little irritated. There was still long stretch of road in front of him and nothing to distract himself with. Like it or not, Britain wasn't going anywhere, and the smug bastard was well aware of it.

"But, then, who would you talk to? Canada? You didn't even bother calling him when you got hurt," Britain said, giving him a look. America instantly tensed. If he'd been thinking clearly, he probably would have booked a flight home instead of hot-wiring Canada's car. Alfred really wasn't looking forward to that confrontation later.

"It's not like I went out of my way to tell anybody. They came and bothered me," he muttered. He was rather sick of his brother and the girls treating him like a damsel in distress. America could take care of himself. He didn't need to be babied. Arthur easily picked up on his mood and pounced.

"Oh that's right. You had the girls with you. Too bad, the wonder twins can't handle it when you get a few paper cuts," Britain said.

"Shut up already, I'm fine," America insisted, ignoring Arthur's attempt to rile him. So what if he'd freaked them out a little and accepted some help? That didn't mean he was losing his touch. Their company was a welcome relief, not something he relied on.

"Hmm . . . Is that why you made a fool of yourself at the meeting?" Britain said, hitting another sore spot, one that he couldn't deny as easily. A familiar fear gripped him. He really didn't want to break down in the middle of the road.

"I just wanted to feel like I was doing something," Alfred admitted, and he'd certainly done something all right. He wouldn't blame any of countries if they decided to avoid him for a while. Britain's face softened, and the honest sincerity confused him. America gulped. He couldn't afford to be unsure. His resolve wasn't as strong as it was a few days ago.

"You're restless. Stop this silly spectacle and go home," Britain said, arms crossed and acting more like a scolding parent than America was willing to put up with. So, he laughed nervously and tried to shake off the feeling that maybe he was right.

"Broken record much? We've already discussed this," he said, checking his rear view mirror if only so his eyes wouldn't keep darting back to Britain. There wasn't much traffic yet, but Alfred knew that even if there was it wouldn't sufficiently distract him. After so many years on the road, driving wasn't something he had to put much thought into.

"I had a feeling you'd be more inclined to listen this time," Britain said, again preying on his self doubt. America could see no other reason why he would pull the concerned parent routine instead of attacking him directly.

"Fraid' not, haven't figured out what to do yet," Alfred mumbled dejectedly. He really should have made more progress by now. Sure, he'd met lots of interesting people, but if anything, he'd only succeeded in changing his routine. America had yet to experience that elusive moment of clarity he'd been searching for. Who was Alfred really if he could pretend to be anyone he wanted?

"And, you're not going to, if you stay in your shabby hell hole," Britain said, catching his attention. America glared at him and stuck out his tongue childishly.

"Hey, I like my shabby hell hole," he said, more than a little annoyed that his two bedroom apartment had once again being insulted. Sure, it wasn't anything like his old Kentucky home, but the apartment wasn't the nightmarish hell dimension Tony and Britain were making it out to be. Blah, he hoped he wouldn't run into Tony today. He didn't feel like answering any of the questions he'd undoubtedly have.

"And yet, you still went to the meeting like nothing happened," Britain said, patiently weaving his web of doubt and persuasion. Sadly, it was working like a charm.

"I don't know why anymore." America said tiredly. It had made perfect sense when he was hyped up on caffeine a few hours ago.

"Bullshit. It's the same reason you woke up with burns on your back. You're not human," Britain said. No, he wasn't human, and like it or not, Alfred was starting to realize his responsibilities didn't go away just because he left D.C. for a while. And yet, he couldn't readily admit this to Arthur, because Alfred knew if he did the game would be over, and Alfred didn't want this reality to be his new normal. He didn't want to be the resigned lifeless mascot to a country that didn't really feel like his country anymore. So, he snapped out of his funk and went with the first comeback he could come up with.

"At least, I exist," he huffed. Britain wasn't the least bit phased.

"Doesn't matter, my point still stands. I think your body has made it quite clear that being a country isn't something you can ignore," Arthur replied reasonably. His steady gaze unnerved him. Britain knew everything he knew, and Arthur's eyes spoke of impending victory. Alfred didn't like losing.

"Get out of my head," Alfred said, shouting in a last ditch effort to end the conversation before he convinced himself to turn the car around and head to D.C. Britain rolled his eyes.

"Cut the dramatics. You know what I am."

"I don't need you," America said quietly. He didn't sound all that convincing. England scoffed and shook his head.

"If you didn't, I would have stopped showing up a long time ago."

It was nice having someone that was always there, even if he really wasn't. Bah, he wasn't making sense anymore. Alfred shook his head to rid himself of sentimental thoughts. He was alone, driving back to the university. There was no one else in the car.

"Fine. Let me rephrase. I don't need you right now." His delivery was nearly flawless, only the slight tremor in his voice gave him away. He really didn't want to be alone right now. America should go home. They needed him. Something else might happen or . . . a loud pop distracted him. Ugh, Arthur was chewing gum.

" You're clearly having second thoughts," Arthur said, waiting expectantly because the damn Brit was just waiting for him to crack.

"Yeah but not about the stuff you want me to reconsider. Now, shut up or I'll stop the car," Alfred threatened, aware how close he'd been to caving.

"That doesn't really work on me, sorry. Besides, we're on a highway," Arthur said.

"I hate you, " America said automatically.

"I'm aware, but I didn't know you hated everyone else just as much," Britain said as if they were having a casual conversation about their least favorite Beatle.

"I don't hate everyone. My words just didn't come out right," America said, back on the defensive. Let's just say Alfred wished he'd just kept watching old nineties cartoons instead of reminding everyone one why they only ever visited him when he was throwing a party.

"Huh, funny, I just assumed that's what you meant when you told everyone that you weren't friends with any of them," England said, giving him the push he needed to let some of his bitter thoughts slip out.

"No, I just know that most of them wouldn't give a damn about me if I my decisions didn't impact the word so much."

"Oh, boo hoo, it actually matters what you do. Big deal that doesn't mean that you didn't spend a god awful amount of time and money winning some of them over," Arthur reminded him, surprisingly supportive. Alfred blanched. Maybe, these talks didn't always have to be traumatic reminders of his less than pleasant past.

"I guess so" he mumbled, at a lost for what else to say. No matter what others might say about him, he put his money where his mouth is. He was very free with his wallet.

"And yet, you chose to spend your time on humans who frankly aren't worth the investment," Arthur said, completely ruining what he thought was going to be a nice moment. He wanted to end their conversation on a friendly note, just this once, but America couldn't let this slide. At the end of the day, his people were the reason that he didn't just throw his hands in the air, and yell, "I give up. I'm going to play Pokemon now," to the heavens when the world kept dragging him down.

"I don't base someone's worth on whether or not they can outlive me thank you very much," he snapped. Britain frowned, not expecting the sudden hostility. All things considered, America showed a lot of restraint when they had these little talks.

"No need to get testy. I'm sure you can at least admit that you aren't making their lives any better by sticking around," Arthur said, switching tactics, and unfortunately, the old man had a point.

"I'm not very good at admitting things apparently," Alfred said sourly. Why the hell was England on his case all of a sudden anyway? Or did he just never notice these things when everything was going well for him?

"What happens if they find you bloody on the floor next time something terrible happens to you? Hmm? Are you going to tell them it's just a scratch? They won't believe you," Britain said, reminding him that he had no long term strategy to deal with the stuff that was harder to explain.

"I-I don't know, okay. I've been improvising," America said, already losing the advantage. Britain was right. Living this way was impractical, and even if suddenly finding himself injured was a rare occurrence, it still presented a problem.

"Yes because they really bought that "I'm fine" routine last time," Arthur said, edging him on. America rolled his eyes. This was silly.

"Look, I know what you're trying to do, and it won't work. Just because I worried them once, does not mean I'm ruining their lives, " Alfred said, vaguely aware that he'd been meaning to stop at a fast food joint for a quick bite for some time. Oh well, it's not like he needed to eat.

"Oh really? I suppose you had the best of intentions when you sent Andy away," Arthur said, seriously pushing this new "I'm no good for them" angle. America laughed, right, that guy.

"Pshht, she didn't care about that loser," he said. She never really mentioned him anymore. He was just some guy that she'd had a momentary interest in.

"You think so? Because, she didn't seem to have a lot of friends in the first place. She's not a social butterfly like you. I'm afraid. " Arthur said, making Alfred think twice. She'd never really brought anyone else over after that. Was she afraid to?

"That's ridiculous. You don't know that," America said, completely losing his cool. It's not like she was around him twenty four hours a day. So, what if he'd used some of his connections to send him away? She . . . probably had other friends, but if he was the friend she chose to bring over, her other friends probably weren't that great.

"My dear boy, do you think it's normal for a random stranger to latch onto you as she has?" Britain asked. America narrowed his eyes.

"She's not just some random stranger, and you know it."

Britain yawned disinterestedly and smirked.

"How sad, you really think deep down that she sticks around because of some connection you had in the distant past. Trust me, lightning does not strike twice in this case," Arthur said, making him flustered. America didn't automatically assume Amy sensed anything different about him, let alone felt a connection to him in any way. Of the two, she seemed the most oblivious to his situation.

"Go away," he shouted in exasperation. All Britain had accomplished so far was raising his stress levels. Ah, an exit, America could really use a burger right now, and there was a familiar yellow M in the distance.

"Go home, and I will," Britain said. America groaned. Sad, that he'd come to this.

"You know I can't,"America said.

"There isn't some big secret you have to learn to feel like yourself. You imagined the problem. Now is the time to return and resume your responsibilities, " Britain demanded.

"Why can't you ever trust me?" America asked. Arthur smiled sadly.

"Because you never know when to quit."

"But you do," America said evenly. The conversation had run its course, and now, it was time to say goodbye.

" I'll be taking my leave. I'm afraid you're too set on running away for my words to be of any use, " Britain said, fading away just as America pulled up to the Mc Donald's Driveway.

"I'm not . . . running away."

"Hello, how can I help you?" America stared at the speaker dumbly. For a second, he'd forgotten where he was, and it was only after he ordered that he remembered he was alone. He ate it all anyway.

"Hey girls, why does my house look like some tacky antique shop in Connecticut? " America said, genuinely surprised. He didn't think Amy would actually go through with it or have the gall to break in. Alfred wasn't even sure how she'd convinced Lisa to help her. As far as he could tell, everything had gone off without a hitch, and yet, something was off. They seemed more than a little disturbed.

"Girls? Why are you two giving me that look? I told you I was going to be busy today so-" America said nervously. Granted, he hadn't been all that specific about how long he'd be out, but he wasn't obligated to spend all his time with them if he didn't want to.

"We met Tony," Lisa said, in an eerily calm tone. America tensed. Okay, there was no need to panic. What were the odds that Tony would reveal himself?

"Oh, like over the phone or-" Amy cut him off.

"He's gray, Al."

America didn't keep up anymore pretenses and shouted, "Dammit Tony, did you just suddenly decide you didn't give a shit or did they jimmy the lock or something?"

The two girls exchanged looks. Lisa frowned and started to rub her arm anxiously.

"We called before hand so we could bring the furniture Amy made for you while you were away," Lisa said, confirming the fact Tony just didn't give a shit anymore.

"We were going to surprise you, but we were the one's that ended up surprised when he opened the door," Amy said, actually psyched about the whole thing. Great, next thing he knew, Alfred would be losing her in space.

America turned to Tony calmly guzzling down his soda while not giving a damn.

"Tony, I can't believe you would just spring this on me after a meeting . . . What do you mean they had to find out sometime? I can keep up a lie for a very long time. Not that I'm doing that now," he said, slowly losing what remained of the faux normal life he'd been leading.

" Alfred explain, please. I think it's become painfully obvious that there is more to you than you let on," Lisa said, giving him a knowing look. Was she really playing the "you already told me during one of your drunk rants" card? Well, he wasn't about to say more about all this than he needed to.

"Nah, it's totally just the alien thing." he said cheerfully. Unfortunately, they were no longer willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Al, we're not stupid," Amy said, pointing to the alien. Tony nodded and held up his phone. He'd been calling the CIA a lot recently. America confiscated it, wishing desperately that they'd stop hijacking his freaking phone.

"Fine, I guess this conversation can't wait. I'm actually America. Surprise."

Amy remained highly skeptical and was having difficulty stifling her laugher. Lisa poured herself a glass of wine that had definitely been opened while he was away, half the bottle was empty.

"Lisa, are you drinking my alcohol?" He hoped that she wasn't a former alcoholic that he'd driven to drink. America was already having a rotten week.

"It's been a very long and confusing day, please indulge me, just this once," Lisa begged.

"Besides, you're going to need to come up with a better story than I'm the chunk of land you live on. Sorry, I didn't mention it earlier," Amy said, arms crossed and still highly amused by the whole thing. Lisa looked at him apologetically.

"Well, actually," Lisa said, trailing off. Amy caught on quickly, and her smile started to fade.

"Oh," she said, realizing she'd missed a lot more than she realized. America tried to make his smile reassuring, but it only seemed to make her more nervous. He sighed. No use turning back now.

"Lisa, pour me a glass, this is going to take a while." She obliged and he proceeded to tell them about his lack of oomph.

* * *

_**This would have come sooner, but a lot of things hit me hard this summer, and I've been having difficulty doing much of anything. I'll be working on Broken Glass of Empires next for those of you that also keep up with my other stories. So, I hope it was worth the wait, or at least, has given you faith that I'm not dead, just tired. **_


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